Escape
by Crystal Spinning
Summary: Marigold Pederson is intelligent, responsible, shy, quiet, afraid of her own shadow, beaten bloody... and pregnant with Dallas Winston's posthumous child. Part 2 of Outsiders Series.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing. This is a fanfiction to the Outsiders, written by SE Hinton. I claim nothing and am using this content solely for entertainment purposes only.

Goddamn continuity. Previous story: Subside – A Darry Curtis Love Story. If you want to read this, read that first! Or you'll be confused. It's a series!

Chapter 1

I live in absolutely the worst part of town, and I hate it so much.

My best friend, Mercedes Mathews, thinks that I don't have friends because I don't want to take them home. I think she's wrong, even though that rarely happens. I just don't like people. I'm ashamed when people pass me in their cars and call me a greaser, or a hood. I carry a knife for bluff, so I don't get jumped walking home from school. I'd never tell a soul, though. That's greasy.

A lot of my school friends don't even know I'm not middle class. But that's the thing. They're my school friends, not my real friends. My only real friend is Mercedes, since my brother ran off.

Every day, I wake up at six o'clock so that I can make everything about me nice. I don't wear makeup, ever, because I'm afraid even lip gloss will give people a reason to sneer at me. I make sure my hair is perfectly straight, and I get it cut every two months so it never looks ratty. I keep it long and clean, and I wear modest skirts every day. I do not want to be anything like the other people in my neighborhood. They're all greasers, headed for nowhere. But I hate Socs too.

Socs are people who think the world will be given to them on a silver platter, just cus they were born to parents with money. They cruise by with mediocrity, thinking that they don't need good grades or to work hard, because they're innately better. Well I think that's sheer foolishness.

I work every day of the week, at a childcare facility. I love kids. They're so innocent, and fascinating. The way they see the world is so different from someone older. It's wonderful, and refreshing. From three until five thirty, I'm with the kids. Then from six to ten, I'm a ticket-giver at the Nightly Double. It's hard, because I usually have so much homework. What I don't get done at school and during the children's naptime, I do at home. So on any usual night, I'm up until midnight. And that's just a week day.

On Saturdays and Sundays, I'm free in the mornings, but at twelve, I go to the daycare. I work there until six, and from eight-thirty until midnight, I give tickets. Mercedes doesn't get why I do this. But even though she's my truest friend, and tells me everything, I don't wanna tell her the truth.

If I'm home, Dad hits me for dizzyingly simple things. And Mam, too. If I'm at work, I don't have to see the worst, most run-down home in the neighborhood, know it belongs to me. I don't have to walk right through the door because we don't have a key, since the lock is broken and nobody would steal from us anyway.

I have to get out of there, and I'll do whatever it takes for that to happen. I don't remember the last conversation I had with my parents, the last time I haven't had to sneak out to avoid them. I'm ashamed of them. I'm ashamed of everything about my life. I'll break the mold. I'll escape.

**Short first chapter, I know! But this is just an opening. The chapters will be longer from here on out: there's a plot with this story! That isn't just girl meets boy blahblah. But I decided I loved Ash, and what she meant for the Curtis family (a motherly figure, sort of) so I decided to make a series out of it! **


	2. Chapter 2

"Marigold!" Mercedes pushed a crowd of kids out of her way and stood triumphantly before me. She's tall, taller than me, with short blonde hair and sparkling eyes. I've always been plain, and next to her I'm even mousier. I don't put much stock in my looks, because that's a Socy thing to do, but I do notice it when we stand in front of the bathroom mirrors. I have long brown hair that's always tied back in a perfect braid, perfectly straight, and always clean. I wear long skirts and nun-like shoes and my blouses are always buttoned all the way up. I guess I dress the way I behave: shut in. It's just who I am.

"Hello Mercedes," I answered quietly. People always wondered about our friendship. I guess we weren't really anything alike. But she was my best friend, ever. I loved her like a sister or a cousin, family. Although, her real brother, Two-Bit, was alien to me.

Two-Bit Mathews was tall, handsome, constantly drunk, and absolutely wild. I was terrified of him. Dallas Winston had been one of his friends, and Dally hadn't scared me nearly as much as Two-Bit. Dallas was a hood, a greaser, the lowest of the low. But he was familiar. Two-Bit was crazy, strange, and almost unreal, like a character from a book. Whenever I'm at Mercedes' house, and he was, I'd get an awful shyness, worse than usual. I don't really know why, because he's friendly enough, especially when drunk. I guess it's because my dad's always drunk too. You never know when he'll turn mean.

"Do you wanna go to the DX? Two-Bit isn't coming to school today, but he swore if I went to the DX with his friends, he'd drop off the homework I left at home."

I shrugged. "Sure, I'll come. Which friends does he mean?"

"The freshman, Ponyboy, and Steve."

"What about that new girl they always hang out with?" I asked, remembering the tiny, scruffy girl. Rumor had it, she lived at the Curtis' house.

"Naw, Ash's been staying at home to take care of Pony's older brother or something. But who cares, I need my shit. They're Two-Bit's friends, not mine."

I smiled. "Okay, I'm coming."

When we all got to the DX, Steve got out of the car immediately to greet a worker, probably one of the Curtis brothers, the one with a crazy name. I stepped out of the car with Mercedes, who swore. "Goddamit. That stupid greasy bum is probably laying in bed, drunk. Fuck! I guess I'm failing math then." She shrugged. "Hey Steve! You wanna give me and Mar a lift home? I aint going back to school."

The worker laughed. Gosh, he was the most handsome man I'd ever seen. He was greasy, sure, but not in the way Dallas Winston had been, or the way Two-Bit was. He was covered in car grease, but he had a clean smile, and a clear face. He was like a movie-star, only real. "I said that too, and now look at me!" he joked, an angelic smirk on his lips. I felt my stomach drop to my knees. This was Sodapop Curtis? He was beautiful.

I racked my brains for a memory of Sodapop. I busted out laughing when I remembered. He had been at one of Two-Bit's birthday parties that Mercedes had invited me to, years ago. He had been a skinny, towheaded boy with scraped knees and food on his face. He had stolen my toy and I threw my ice cream at him. Derek had been there, I remembered. He was Two-Bit's friend. His _best_ friend. Or had been, before he left.

I looked up at him and I could tell he was thinking of the same thing. "Looks like you haven't cleaned up much since the last time we met," I smiled at him.

His enormous eyes winked at me, his lashes sending butterfly shadows across his cheeks. "I've never been afraid of getting' down'n dirty," he replied cheerfully.

"If I remember correctly, you cried."

"It aint my fault the icecream was cold," he laughed at me. He turned to Mercedes. "Hey, you gonna be at Tim's next gig? I'm racin' too, this time."

Mercedes shook her head. "Naw, man, I aint. Tim busted my balls after I almost crashed his baby last time. Guess I'm on probation, or groundation for the time bein'. I can prolly weasel my way outta it though."

"Well shit," he answered. "I guess I'm in it to win it then, if you aint there."

Mercedes loves drag racing. That's where she got her name. Her real name was Annabel. It didn't fit her at all, and the second she got her nickname, it stuck. She made it stick.

"Well, iunno," she mused. "I might go, if Two-Bit aint too drunk. I was plannin' on invitin' Mar here over, but maybe not."

"If you wanna go to the race, I'll come." I interjected quietly. "It's my only night off this month. I might as well have a good time."

"Well, Ash'n the boys'll all be there, even if Two-Bit aint. You know Ash?" he asked me, being very polite and friendly. I liked him already.

"Yes, we've talked a coupla times," I answered. "She seems nice."

Sodapop looked aghast. "If there's one word to describe Ash, it aint nice," he hooted. "Insane, wild, funny, and too smart for her own good, maybe. That girl and my brother are the new League of Justice. Forget superheroes, those guys have it down!" he finished with a lopsided smirk.

"Are they together now?" Mercedes asked. "Two-Bit mentioned that Darry was goin' nuts for a while there."

"Yup, they're official, and thank goodness." He ran a hand through his corn silk hair. "She drives him crazy,"

"Well, isn't that a good thing?" I piped up.

Sodapop and Mercedes stared at me.

"Well, isn't it?" I asked, feeling a blush climb up my face. "Better'n feeling apathetic about it all, isn't it? I'd rather love someone who drove me nuts'n be with somebody who I don't feel much of anything for."

"I guess you're right, there," Soda mused.

Mercedes shot a raised eyebrow at me. I shrugged again. I guess she was surprised to hear my voice at all. I don't really talk much. Or notice things. Mercedes thinks I'm kind of oblivious. "You are right," she said. "But maybe goin' crazy aint too swell ofa idea, yaknow? Sometimes steady's better'n wild."

"I guess the grass's always greener," I shrugged.

"Hey, you girls want some Pepsi?" Steve hollered at us. I shrugged. Mercedes gestured for him to get two of them. He disappeared inside of the store.

"You know, Mare, that's the first time I heard you have a solid opinion on somethin' ina while." Mercedes told me seriously. "It's nice to see you climbin' outta the rut."

"It aint a rut," I answered carefully. "I've just been thinking about some things."

"Like what?" Soda asked. His brother wandered over and listened. He was a real quiet kid, quiet as me. I liked him.

"Well, I guess I been more… _reevaluating_ things I know," I told him honestly. "Things aren't what they seem, they really aint. I s'pose that… iunno what I'm talking about. Don't listen to me, I'm just rambling," I felt embarrassed. He was just being polite.

"Hey Mercedes, if your brother can wake up, why don't ya'll come for dinner?" Sodapop charmed us. "We're havin' a big ol' celebration."

"How come?" she asked.

"Just because," Ponyboy shrugged. "Ash decided. An Darry don't say no to her."

Soda chuckled. "He's going back to work tomorrow, and she's coming to school, but he still can't refuse anythin' she wants. He tries though, he tries real hard."

"He's whipped, aint ever seen anythin' as bad as that, not even with you and Sandy, huh Soda?" Steve handed Mercedes and I Pepsi's, and we nodded thanks.

"Yeah, but Ash is diffr'nt from Sandy, and Darry's diffrn't from me. Darry's more serious, and so's Ash. Me and Sandy was puppy love."

Steve howled like a wolf. "From puppy love to lone wolf, there pal. All grown up!"

Soda burned scarlet. "Not quite _up_ anymore, if you know what I mean," he cracked. Ponyboy turned redder than him, and I barked out a laugh. Mercedes roared, until she doubled over, clutching her stomach.

"Plentya broads be after ya now, Soda. Take your pick."

Sodapop shrugged. "I guess I aint been as much interested in the girls lately. Guess I'm hittin' a rut of my own. I'm more'n over Sandy though." I could tell he was lying.

"Now you gotta get over yourself and hit up a woman," Mercedes joked, completely at home with her brothers greasy friends.

I felt like an awful snob now, in my long skirts and tight blouses. But I was worried if I cut lose a little, I'd go crazy. I liked these guys, though, a whole lot.

"Well," Sodapop joked, sidling up to me and slinging an arm around my shoulders. "I guess I don't got to hit anything for attention when it's staring straight at me," he winked, exaggeratedly.

I looked up at him. "You don't need any more attention than you already get, I'll bet," I snorted at him.

Mercedes howled. She knew that she was the only one who really knew that I wasn't silent. Some people have never even heard my voice. And here I was, jabbering a storm. At least, for me. Ponyboy chuckled too, and Steve slapped me on the back.

I guess most people see me as a quiet, awkward little girl, but I can hold my own in a conversation. You learn early to get wise where I live. Especially in my house.

"Hey, uh, we better head back," Steve said, swallowing a laugh. I pressed my hands down on my stomach and nodded. Everyone waved good-bye to Sodapop and climbed into Steve's car.

I held my stomach and thought.

**Chapter Two! Wooo! I have a lot prewritten: this is going to be long. I'm at over twenty thousand words already. The problem is posting, since I'm lazy. R&R?:D**


	3. Chapter 3

"Next please," I said dully, handing out tickets, one by one.

"Next please,"

"Next please,"

I felt like I was going to go crazy. I hated this job, but it paid more than the daycare could. I needed to save my money at this point anyway. I'd been sleeping at Mercedes house for the past few days anyway. I had a couple hundred dollars saved up. Next paycheck, I'd be out.

"Hey, Ponyboy," I said surprised. There was nobody behind him: the rest of the night, people would be coming in cars, rather than walking. It was too cold. "What are you doing here, this late?"

He was wrapped up in a thick jacket, and he had a tiny girl next to him, bundled in at least eight shirts. "Just came to see the movie I guess. Soda and Two-Bit are comin' by later. Ash, this is Marigold."

She stuck a hand up at me. I noticed how pale she was. Her gray eyes glinted at me. "'Ey," she said. "How're you doin'? I'm Ash."

"My name is Marigold," I introduced myself.

Ponyboy nudged her. "Toldja."

"Guess you was right," the girl answered. "Aint surprisin'. Ya usually are, man. Dunno why I bet withya."

"What did you tell her?" I asked, bemused. Ash grinned up at me, her wild, frizzy hair flying in the soft breeze.

"He told me your name was Goldie. Didn't believe the kid. But you better believe he aint told me a lie once since I met him."

"You're a nice guy," I told Ponyboy. "I like you a lot. And your brother."

"Better believe the oldest one is my favorite though, man," Ash joked. "Darry sure knows hawdda cook, huh there, Pone?" she winked at him.

Ponyboy smiled but didn't answer. "So you're coming back to school tomorrow?" I asked her, making conversation.

"Yup, Dare got himself cripped up there for a while, fell offa roof. I hadta take on more shifts at the DX, help pay them bills. But he's goin' back to work tomorrow, so I gotta start goin' full time," she griped. "I'm gonna miss crippled Darry."

"Aw, c'mon, Ash, nothin'll be much diffrn't. He could still whip ya if you get outta line. Guess you still gotta be on your best behavior." She laughed at him.

I listened to them speak, fascinated. The way Ponyboy drawled his words slowly, as if every word was part of a poem. He had a natural lilt to his voice, that made listening to him like music. The fact that he was quiet made it better.

Ash had a flat pronunciation of every word, butchering the words and not pronouncing half the sounds. But her actual voice was low and pretty, with a laughter like tinkling bells. It was so odd listening to such different voices blend.

"Why don't you like school?" I asked her, curious. She seemed so open, almost, but there was something shuttered about it. Like when a house didn't have any hallways, but had a bunch of hidden doors. It seemed open, but then you realized there were more hideaways than you figured.

"Don't like the people." she answered. "I don't mind the learnin' part, it's just that I don't wanna worry 'bout handlin' Socs every time I turn."

"Hey, why don't you come to dinner?"Ponyboy invited her. "Since its Friday, we figured we'd have an all nighter. We were on the way home from the store when I remembered you work here."

I glanced at the clock. It was five to ten. "Sure, gimmie a minute to close down the station. I doubt anybody else is coming, anyway."

I closed down the ticket stand and followed them back to their house. I took one of Ash's bags, which had chips in it. Salt and vinegar. "My favorite," she grinned.

"Finally…" Ponyboy said under his breath. She glared at him, punching his shoulder, not kidding around. "Sorry, Ash."

I wondered what was up with that. But I didn't want to probe. It wasn't my business. If I don't want people poking their noses into my business, then I don't have the right to do it to others.

Their house was warm, compared to the December night. Daytime wasn't too bad, but the nights were freezing here.

Mercedes glommed onto me the second I walked into the door. "Chips?" she grinned tipsily. "What kind?"

I showed her, and she groaned. "I hate this shit. It burns."

"You'll not eat, or stop bitchin'," Ash snapped at her. "My goddamn house." She grabbed a beer.

There were some people in here I didn't recognize. They were all crowded around Ash and Mercedes, too. One was Darry, the oldest brother. There was an enormous one, a redhead with slicked back hair, in a leather jacket, a short, bull-shaped guy who terrified me a little, and Mercedes was talking to a calm-looking man with shorn hair. Derek had shorn hair, last time I saw him.

And there was a black guy. I wasn't racist, I couldn't be. I was a greaser girl: discrimination was hypocrisy where I lived. Integration was the new frontier, right? But there weren't any in our school. There was a Socy family, but those kids were twins, and I think they were babies. I looked at Ash's paleness and contrasted it to his chocolate skin, and was immediately envious. It was the most beautiful color I'd ever seen in my life. I looked at my own skin: it was pink tinged, and splotchy. Not very attractive.

Sodapop came up to me, bouncing around. He was holding a Pepsi. "Hey, you came!" he said delightedly. He was such a nice guy. I smiled at him. "That there, oglin' Ash, is my big brother Darry. The black guy's named Jackhammer, he's tuff as anything. The redhead is Charlie, but if you officially introduce yourself he'll call himself Big Red. Real big shot kinda guy." He grinned. "The shorty's named Jimmy, and that there guy talkin' to Mercedes is Case. They're real nice, all of them. Drunker'n anything though, so you should prolly avoid them, at least for now. You spendin' the night? Mercedes says that you usually stay with her'n Two-Bit, and they're spending the night."

"Sure, I'll stay if there's room," I answered nervously, pressing my hands on my stomach.

"Plenty of room. Beer too, if you want some. Even Pony's sneakin' a coupla sips," he grinned at me.

"No thanks, I don't drink," I rushed nervously, rubbing my stomach, hard. I grabbed a few pretzels and chewed thoughtfully.

"Me either," he admitted, grabbing a pretzel from my hand. "I guess I don't need alcohol to have a good time!"

"Yeah…" I answered. Then: "Actually, I don't remember the last time I've had any fun. I'm always working, or doing school work. I'll be glad for winter break. Except I'm working all of break."

"Yeah, I work too," he nodded. "I'm glad I don't go to school. That's just too much stress all at once. I don't know how you and Steve and Ash do it."

I smiled at him. "Don't give us too much credit. You work full time,"

"Mercedes said you work two jobs every day of the week, along with school an' aint had a day off in ages. You comin' to the drag race? Me and Steve fixed up one of Tim's cars real good. Hopefully we'll make some cash."

"Yeah, I'm savin' money. What are you gonna use the cash for?" I asked him, smiling up at him. His brown eyes were huge and warm, like molten chocolate. His soft blonde hair glinted in the lamplight and I caught my breath at his grin, like a sunrise.

"I'm gettin' promoted to DX manager," he admitted. "Nobody knows yet. It's a surprise. I'll be gettin' a big raise, boy, I'm excited. I want my own garage someday. What're ya doin', that makes you need a job?"

I shook my head, turning red. His eyes turned concerned in the blink of an eye, and he put a hand on my shoulder. "You okay, Goldie?" he asked.

To my horror, I felt tears coming. Mercedes didn't probe into my issues anymore, so nobody had worried about my feelings in years. I kept everything shut up inside, and the slightest provocation could bring me to tears.

He led me outside, wrapping a blanket around me so I wouldn't get cold. I curled up on the chair, and he took a seat next to me. I shook my head and gained my composure.

"Sorry," I choked out, "I-, W- Uh, Sorry."

He looked at me, and gosh, everything about him was beautiful. He was a god, like Adonis. His brown eyes traced me, and his lips worked around, trying to come up with the proper words. "Tell me," he said. And I knew he meant it. He really cared: not because he was my best friend, or trying to sleep with me, but because he was a person who saw another person in pain. He'd try to help, if he could. There weren't words to express how I felt at that moment.

I let the words tumble out: "I'm runnin' away, man," I rushed out, slurring my words, my vowels tripping over each other, not caring about how greasy I sounded. "I can't stay here in Tulsa no more, I got the cash, an' all I gotta do is pick the right time, man. Nobody's supposed to know."

He was silent. I cringed on the inside. What would he say? I was suddenly deathly afraid of him. Would he get up? Convince me not to go, because it was his duty as the only one who knew? "Why?" he asked simply, his quiet voice caressing me. It was a sound like music.

I unbuttoned my shirt. At first he reared back in surprise, but when he saw the methodical way I was doing it, settled down. I pulled the blanket away from me and showed him my body.

My arms were nearly entirely black and blue, with huge bruises running up and down. There was a long scar on my ribs that wrapped around to my back, and finger marks and tiny cuts everywhere. I was used to it, even if I tried to avoid seeing them, but Sodapop's reaction nearly brought me to tears again.

His gasp filled the quiet outdoors, and he stared at me. He put a gentle finger on the scar, and traced it, as lightly as possible. He had butterfly fingers. "Jesus Christ," he breathed. I guess he was connecting everything into his mind, why I did this, why I dressed the way I did, why I worked so hard, for what seemed to him, a futile cause. He looked up at me, tears in his eyes.

We were silent for a moment, and I put my shirt back on.

Sodapop looked at me somberly. "Needa ride?"

**So, thanks everyone who's reviewed my first chapters! It means a lot! 3 I love getting on my email and seeing that people have put me on Story Alert or asked me to post another chapter. Love you guys! :D R&R**


	4. Chapter 4

"This is my house," I told him quietly. "You don't have to do this, you know."

"I know, Goldie, but it aint a problem. I wanna do this for you." He replied seriously. "Don't you think I got any goodness in me?"

"I think you have too much," I admitted, and climbed out of his car. "I'll be back in five minutes."

"Take any longer than that, an' I'll come in. I don't trust that family of yours." He said seriously.

It was pretty late, so I assumed that they'd both be knocked out: my mother literally, and my father dead drunk.

I snuck through the door quietly, and saw my mother sleeping on the kitchen table. My father was in his ratty easy chair, that broke ten years ago, and lost the matching cushions ten years before that. I didn't hear him talking, so I snuck past him, into my room. I gathered my money carefully, stashed in different places across the room. I had done that, in case my father stumbled upon the money. I pulled on some old jeans that were too big, and the warmest shirt I could find. I tied my hair into a strong bun at the very back of my head. I put on old sneakers and wool socks.

I was on my way out the door when my stomach sank. "Girl… where da' 'ell doya think yer goi'g?" he bit out, getting up from his chair.

My dad wasn't a big guy, but he was sturdy, bigger than me. I glanced longingly at the door, my father blocking the way.

"Well?" he demanded, lumbering towards me. I moved away, evading the attack that I knew was coming. "Whaddya think, girlie? Goi'g outta.. tryna party, li'l slut?" he exclaimed, mockingly. "Ya gawtta get my 'permisshion' a'fore ya can do anythin', you lyin' liddle bitch!" he spat at me. "C'mere!"

I dodged out of the way. I couldn't do it this time. I was running away: he couldn't hold me down anymore. I pulled out the dull knife I used for bluffing, and waved it at him.

"Yew dunno howta use that piecea shit," he snorted.

"Shut up, old man," I told him coldly. "Get out of my way! I'm leaving, and I'm not going to come back, ever. I hate you, and I hope you die young from all the beer you drink."

"Aint a nice thing to say toda man who fuckin' raised you, ya little shit!" my dad screamed. "Your stooped slut offa mudder, playin' you off like my kid, ya shithead! I hate you too! I wish you never was born! I coudda had it made!" he menaced me, running towards me drunkenly. I didn't really know how to, or want to, use my knife, and I waved it, but he ignored me. "I was in the fuckin' war, ya bitch! I was handsum, I coudda pick'd what broad I wanteda fuck! But ya'll ruined that! You aint even mines!"

"Who?" I whispered. "Who's my father?" I yelled at him. "Tell me! Is that why Derek left?" Everything made sense. Derek was his kid, and I wasn't. It explained everything. It explained why he hated me. It explained why he went into such a rage when Derek left. I should have realized it, years ago.

"How the fuck should I know!" he hollered at me. "Stupid cunt!" he swung at me, and for the first time in my life, he hit me in my face, where everyone could see. I felt blinding pain, and felt like he'd shattered my jaw. I felt my mouth fill with blood, and I spat it at his shoes. They were worn and dirty anyway.

My mother was on the floor next to me, while my father raved. "Your father's dead," she told me quietly. "He's buried in Texas, in the big city." She crawled away, to hide, as my father leaned down to scream at me.

My mother hadn't protected me, ever. I didn't expect it now. She was a coward. But I understood. I'd be the same way. I probably _was_ the same way. Scared.

My father was dead… that meant, this man wasn't my father. I was so happy. But I was jarred out of my feelings when he kicked me in the stomach, hard enough to make me cough up blood. "GET UP, BITCH!" he screamed. Was Derek his kid? What was my father's name?

Sodapop tore through the door, and through my hazy vision I saw him take in the scene: my blade that couldn't cut paper in my hand, blood on the floor, the man towering over me, hitting me, and my cowering mother.

He ran towards the man I thought was my father, and reared back with a furious punch to his jaw. He turned, and Sodapop dodged his clumsy return hit, barraging him with swing after swing until he hit the floor.

Soda ran towards me, a wild expression in his eyes. I was doubled over on the ground. "Jesus," he said brokenly, and picked me up. I groaned in pain, and he set me gently in the seat, buckling me in carefully. "Marigold," he choked out, kneeling down. I let out a sob. "Are you okay? You aint ever going to go back, I swear. Don't cry, please, don't worry, you aint going to have to go back. He aint gonna hurt you no more," he soothed, his voice cracking. "Jesus, Marigold. It scared me so bad to see you on the ground like that. That lousy bastard." He gripped my hand and I was too delirious.

"Soda, it's okay," I sobbed. "It's fine. He isn't my dad, he's not my dad. I don't belong to him, Soda." I let the tears pour down and burn my cheeks. "I don't ever have to see him again. Nobody's gonna hurt me anymore."

He held my hand to his face and cried with me. "Where do you want to go? I swear, I'll take you anywhere you gotta go."

"Take me to Texas."

**Kinda short, but it's here! R&R? Hooray for updates!**

**Thanks to the people who've reviewed already It means a lot, guys!**


	5. Chapter 5

I slept most of the way. Soda was tireless, driving straight through. I was so incredibly grateful to him, I couldn't express it. This was the most generous thing anyone'd ever done for me, and he did it without a second thought, without question, without worry about himself. He was the most selfless person I'd ever met, and I barely knew him at all.

When I woke up, and saw him driving, bags under his eyes, and a smile ready for me, I burst into tears. "What's wrong?" he asked, pulling over and looking at me. "Does anythin' hurt?"

"No," I choked, trying to breathe and stop crying. "Soda, you're the kindest person I've ever met in my life," I let out a hiccupping sob. "I've never met anyone as good as you… I almost can't bear it."

He looked puzzled. "I'm only doin' what anybody witha heart woulda done for you," he said simply. "Would anybody _not_ help?"

Yes, I wanted to say. You're the only person in existence who would do this, so suddenly, so bigheartedly. But I couldn't bring myself to. If he believed that everyone was kind and beautiful on the inside like him, I wouldn't spoil it for him. It's not that he was innocent: he had known too much. But he was… good. He had seen the evils of everything and they didn't touch him. He was like an angel.

"I owe you my whole life," I told him wholeheartedly. "I owe you everything."

He shook his head. "You don't owe me nothin', nothin' at all, Marigold. I know I don't really know you that well, really, but you're a sweet kid. Nobody deserves to have that happen, nobody!" he said fiercely. "We'll be best friends from now on, and I'll take care of ya no matter what, dontchu worry about it!"

"Oh, god, Soda," I wept. "You're a hero,"

He looked stony. "Too bad I didn't save ya before that greasy bastard ever touched you."

"Soda, you have to leave me now. You don't have to do this! Don't bring yourself down with me. You've been too good already!"

"Goldie, dontchu ever worry about it, I said," he exclaimed. "I'm gonna be here for you no matter what."

I stared moodily at the scenery, then back at Soda. His hair was shining against the lamps, bringing a bright gold to his soft locks. His eyes were deep and brown, mournful, like he didn't understand why I was rejecting his help. I grabbed his hand impulsively, then squeezed my eyes shut. "Soda, you have to leave me because I'm pregnant."

"A baby?" he asked delightedly, pressing his hand on my stomach. His face was alight with joy. You'd think the child was his, and we were trying for it, the way he reacted. It was almost comical. But he abruptly realized the seriousness of it. "Whose baby is it?" he asked me softly, not taking his hand from my stomach. I really didn't want to answer. "C'mon, Goldie, you gotta tell me, we're best friends now. I gotta know what I'm in for, if I'm takin' care of ya."

His words broke me.

"Sodapop, the baby is Dallas Winston's."

I think my words broke him.

**Super short, but omg I was in NEW YORK MEETING ROB LOWE AHHHHH *fangirls***

**I read his book, too, and it made him more real to me. It was really good, surprisingly. I idolize him, not just for his looks, but I love his acting. He talked about how he hated being objectified because of the way he looked, and how he was nerdy in school, and his wife and how much he loves her: He's amazing. I will be forever single because I'm hungup over a fifty year old man…**

**Oh well! Read and review, guys! **


	6. Chapter 6

"Dally?" he asked, sucking in a breath. "Dallas Winston… the greasiest hood alive, the dirtiest gangster and roughest, low-class jerk… lives on." His shoulders shook, and I put my hand on his neck. I couldn't see his face behind the swoop of wheat-colored hair, and I wondered, worriedly, if he was crying.

"_Please_ don't be upset," I pleaded him. "It was only _once_… at Buck Merrill's place. I was looking for Mercedes, and we started talking, and, don't be upset, _please_!" I wondered why it was so easy for me to tell him this: it was harder for him to hear, than for me to tell him.

"Christ, I aint upset with you, Goldie." He breathed, leaning back into his seat. He doubled over again. "I think this is the best news I've heard in a while." He shook with _laughter_, until tears coursed down his cheeks. Then suddenly, the tears changed and he was choking down sobs of his own. "Dally's long gone," he bawled. "But Goldie, _shit_, this means we still got a piece'a him."

I rubbed his back as he slumped against the steering wheel, ignoring the quick blare of the horn. "It was two nights before he died. It sure feels… _empty_, to say that. Dallas Winston, the most violent and wild greaser in Tulsa is gone. He's been gone for three whole months, and the world hasn't fallen over upside down. I can't even believe it, still. I still sometimes expect to turn around and see him grinning like a fool, or schmoozing people for cash, making out with that Sylvia girl at the movies, or hanging out with that boy Johnny Cade in the lot. He won't ever steal, cheat, or lie again…" I said thoughtfully. "He isn't ever going to laugh, or let out that gorgeous smile, or flirt outrageously with me again, ever." It was stupid, but until I heard that he had died, I foolishly wondered if this meant I had his attention. Now I'd never know, and not knowing was probably better than rejection: Dallas Winston would never've stayed with me.

Sodapop kept shaking at the wheel. "I know it," he blubbered. Even in his tears, he was the most handsome boy I'd ever met. His eyes were bright and smooth with glittering tears, and his face was still perfect, carved from marble, with delicate tear tracks down his face. "An' ever since Ash came around, it's almost like we got Johnny back. It don't fill the hole, but it makes it less gapin'… An, an' now I know there's a liddle Dallas junior out there, breakin' loose hell and doing a damn good job of it."

He turned the car on and began to drive, careful and steady. I knew Sodapop Curtis had a reputation for being the wild-child, always laughing, always having fun. He was carefree, even. But that wasn't the guy I'd seen just now. Sodapop Curtis had problems and heartaches just like everyone else, and he still shouldered other people's problems. "You're honestly the tuffest person I've ever met in my life," I told him. "Nobody else in the world is like you."

"I'm dumb," he answered, wiping his tears away. "I'm a dropout who works at a gas station, and what's prolly worse, is that I'm happy with it. I'm gonna be manager, and maybe get my own place eventually. Me and Steve, he's real great with cars, much better'n me. But that still means I'm a quitter. I quit highschool, an' a garage owner is still just a guy who works at a garage."

"You aren't dumb." I exclaimed indignantly. "Just because you can't do calculus doesn't make you stupid, Sodapop. You're one of the most perceptive people I know, and I barely know you. I think you're great."

"Nobody else thinks that," Soda admitted bitterly. Then he looked shocked, and pasted a smile on. "But, aw, shucks, it aint a problem for me to be happy." He shot one of his winning smiles at me. That boy had more charm than a witch.

"I know Ponyboy… he's in my journalism course. He writes about you and your older brother quite a lot. He's more like you than either of you figure," I returned from my thoughts, and rubbed my stomach. "He thinks he isn't nearly as good as you or Darry, and you think the same way. But both of you are beyond handsome, and there aren't words for how nice either of you are."

"I'm not any handsomer than Darry or Pony," Soda complained. "I dunno why people always go on about it. You're beautiful, and I'm not rambling on about it."

I blushed, ignoring his subconscious charming, and continued to get to the point. "People put a lot of importance on looks. I figure you would too." I didn't, really. But then again, Soda was the first person to ever call me beautiful, even though he was just being courteous.

"_You_ don't. Why does everybody think_ I_ do? I hate being just a face. I'm a person too!" he said in frustration. "Ponyboy looks like me, nobody goes on about his face. He's smarter'n me too, and Darry's just as smart. They're athletic too! I wish I were smart, or even real athletic."

"You aren't dumb!" I started, but he interrupted me.

"Easy for you to say. You get straight A's in the Socy classes, Mercedes told me," he growled. "I always hafta be the happy guy, never down about anything, always worryin' about other people's problems. I have problems too! You think I like girls swarmin' me all the time while I'm workin', or out with my friends? The second Sandy left, every girl in town was on me again, and it was awful. It's like I don't have feelings, the way everyone treats me."

"Soda, everybody loves you. You're wonderful," I consoled him. The sun was rising, and the road was nearly empty. "Everyone leans on you. Where'd Steve Randle be without you? Where would Darrel, and Ponyboy? Even Two-Bit Mathews?"

"I just… I want someone fer'me to lean on, every once in a while," he said, stopping the car at a gas station. A man filled the tank, and Soda helped me out of the car, as if I was hugely pregnant already. He slung a tired arm around me. "Check out that sunrise. I aint ever seen one before."

"It's beautiful," I admitted, watching the sky turn from black to blue, the warm bronze and gold of the sun leaking from the horizon, silver clouds shout through with orange and pink sunbeams.

"So are you, kiddo," he flashed a grin at me, quick like lightening and molten like lava. "Don't ya forget that."

**I'd like to thank beba78 for her wonderfulness of reading and reviewing BOTH stories! This is a series, to all of you reading, (and any lurkers out there), so remember: subside is part one! I should probably go add that to both of these summaries, but anyway… ONWARD!**

**Read and Review! **


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

I took the wheel from Soda and finished the last few miles. I stopped at the biggest graveyard I could find, and realized I had no clue where I was.

I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't even know my fathers' name. This wasn't a movie, where I'd stumble upon his grave, along with a couple of long lost sisters, just my age and ready to be best friends. I'd done all this for nothing. I felt horribly guilty for dragging Sodapop into my half-baked plan. All I'd wanted was an escape, but instead I was just wandering around like a lost idiot. I parked and waited for him to wake up. I spent hours staring at him, memorizing the lines of his peaceful face.

He was wrong, when he said that all anyone saw was his face. Not only was he handsome, but his skin glowed, his eyes shone. He gave off an inner light, a goodness, that I'd never seen in a person before. He was unreal.

I gingerly felt my body for bruises and cuts, and nearly threw up when I touched my stomach, the pain was so strong. Last night, my father had been beating me, for the last time. Tonight, I had to decide what to do. I needed to liberate myself, anywhere but Tulsa. Mercedes would take me in, but she'd also pity me: I couldn't stand that. There was no way I'd let her ever see me so low.

It hit me, suddenly, that Sodapop knew more about me than my closest friend. I really was pathetic. I couldn't let her in, but I'd accept a stranger's incredible offer of kindness. It seemed like a mistake, almost. But I knew it wasn't.

Soda stirred, and I held my breath, hoping he'd fall back asleep. But he sat up, rubbing his eyes like a kid, and with a childlike grin, he wiggled into a more comfortable position. "So, where we headin' to?" he asked eagerly.

"You are too wonderful," I felt the urge to laugh bubble up in my throat. A real laugh, not a chuckle, or a giggle, or a fake one to fill silence. A real happiness. I could barely remember what happy felt like.

He shot me a blank smile. "C'mon, Goldie, any ideas?"

"None. Actually, I don't know what we're doing here. I dragged you along for no reason," I admitted self-consciously. "I needed an escape, and got you wrapped in my shenanigans. Guess you'd better call your brothers."

Sodapop shrugged. "I guess I need an escape too… and I mentioned leaving for a few days. I don't have to work, I already took the next week off."

"Why?" I asked, fascinated.

"You know, every word you say is so matter-of-fact," Soda bubbled at me thoughtfully. "But I wanted to go garage huntin'. I toldya I wanna open my own place eventually… I been savin', and I figger I could put down a mortgage, like on houses."

"If it's possible, that's brilliant," I was awed by him. I heard some girls talking about him once, during school, and they had likened him to a statue: beautiful, but empty. They were wrong. He felt things differently than most. It was a good thing. Sodapop was a greaser: but he'd be better than a hoodlum, never hit a woman, and keep out of trouble. It made me furious, thinking about how much better he was than the middle class, than the Socs, and how he was doomed to be stereotyped until he died. Even if he left Tulsa, left Oklahoma, he'd still carry it around with him: the discrimination, the stigma. It wasn't fair.

He shrugged. "Steve'd help me out. We're in it together. He knows cars better'n me anyway. We could have our own place, run it the way we wanted. That's what I wanna do with my life, you know?"

I listened to him talk about his plans, his dreams, for over an hour. The way he smiled while he talked, and tossed his head like a horse, used his hands to help emphasize. He was magical, almost, an angel. He wasn't the smartest, but he wasn't dumb either. He was handsome, and he was made all the more attractive by how genuine he was. He laughed in the middle of sentences, got distracted, changed the subject. He didn't have a long attention span. I rested my hands on my stomach, massaging it, and closed my eyes, letting his voice flow through my ears, like music.

Before I knew it, I opened my eyes to the sunset. Sodapop was leaning against the car, watching it. He sensed me wake up, and said quietly: "I never did notice a sunset 'til Pony made me. Him and Johnny used to do it, he said." Sodapop's voice was low, and sad. "I'm not usually sad. But when I think about Johnny, or Dal," I climbed out of the car and leaned next to him. I was almost his height, only a little smaller. His nose met my forehead, I measured. "How do you feel about the baby there, Mare?" he asked quietly. "Not how _should_ you feel, or what you're gonna do."

I felt shaky as I answered. This was forbidden. Good girls didn't do this. "I want to keep it," I answered quietly. "I think… I think if I have a girl, I'll name her Dahlia. It's scary though. I don't know where I'll live, or anything. I just… I don't know anything. I'm so used to a set schedule: I'm a control freak. It's awful, it really is," I blinked, and the pink and orange and red filtered through the clouds and rained on Sodapop and I.

"That's a beautiful name, for sure," he answered softly, wrapping an arm around me and squeezing. "I'll stick by ya, and so will the rest of the gang. Dally was our friend. You can stay with Buck Merrill, in Dally's old room, I'll bet." I moodily stared at the myriad graves as he continued. "Now it aint any problem for you to stay with me and Dare and Pony, either. I toldja I'm gonna be there for you, Goldie, and that's a promise."

I pulled his arm off and held his hand, leading him to the largest tomb I could find. "My dad's here somewhere," I confessed. "But I don't know where, or why, or how. I don't know his name, or anything. That man who beat me my whole entire life, like he owned me, he's not my father. I'm so glad, I can't even focus on how bad it hurt to live with that for so long. I'm gone, Soda. I don't have to deal with him any longer." I sat down and felt the wad of cash in my pocket. I didn't even know how much it was.

I pulled up the grass, bright and green and probably fake. It made me furious. It was better than normal grass, prettier, thicker, greener, but it wasn't real. It hadn't sprouted from the ground, here, and stayed put through the odds, storms, shovels, droughts. It wasn't supposed to be there. Just like me. I was shoved where I didn't belong, and then shoveled right back up again, and replaced.

"I bet he was real tuff," Sodapop answered, sitting with me. It was freezing, but I didn't care. "I bet he was just like you."

"It just makes me wonder. It isn't really a big part of my life, at this point. But I just wonder how things could've been different, my entire life."

"Well, change aint a problem." he was silent for a moment. "When I was thirteen, I worked at a stable, and I had a horse. He wasn't mine, ownership, but he was mines all the same. His name was Mickey Mouse, and he was an ornery little guy. Tuffest, prettiest horse you've ever seen." He hugged his knees and rested back on the grass, shivering slightly. "I cried when he left. Only Pony and Darry know. I didn't even tell Steve. It aint manly, you know?" he asked sadly. "I miss him so much. That's when I started doin' rodeos, and then I tore a ligament. I haven't been on a horse since. But I'm tryna convince Dare to let me."

I felt that glow he let off, and basked in it. "I'd love to see that," I told him, matter-of-factly. "We should find something to do."

I laid the bills out and counted them. It was hard with my numb fingers, but eventually I made it. Eight hundred dollars. It was a _fortune_.

Soda swore. "Eight hundred dollars? You're rich!"

"Do you want to go to an arcade?" I grinned, basking in freedom.

**THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED. Reviews are my drug. I'm SO glad and grateful to everyone who's been reading! This plot point will continue later! Nothing is just randomly shoved in there. I know exactly what I'm doing :D **


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Every second with Sodapop Curtis was wild. He made the most mundane things interesting. He was completely attentive to me, as if neither of us had a care in the world. He let me win at the arcade games, lifted me over itty puddles, held doors open for me. It was the most magical time I'd had… in my life.

The night I'd spent with Dallas had been wild, and fun, but far from romantic, or magic. Sodapop was a friend to me when I needed it most. And even though we'd been together only for hours, it felt as if I'd known him forever. We shared jokes about the Mathews, and he got me to talk more than I had in years. We shared our dreams, we laughed like fools. I'd never done anything this crazy in my life. I had run away with Sodapop Curtis. The handsomest boy in Tulsa was catering to me, acting for all the world like my best friend.

He did an even better job than Mercedes.

Mercedes has always been stubborn, and she hated touchy-feely emotions. She worked hard, studied hard, and partied harder. She was loyal, more loyal than anything, but she was absent from my life when I needed her most. I had shunned all my friends over the years, horrified and embarrassed, terrified that any tiny slip-up could open my whole life up to them. I know some people called me a snob, a Soc wannabe. But Mercedes and some other greasers knew the truth, and kept my secret… because they understood.

Unfortunately, that didn't keep the rest of the school from tormenting me. Socy girls called me a climber, a gold digger. The middle class girls called me nerdy and ugly. And the greaser girls called me snobby. It was a losing situation. Every day, I'd go home, to the worst house in town, and meticulously clean up, coax my mother from her hiding spots, get ready for work, and avoid the house for as long as I could. Oftener and oftener, I didn't go home at all, and instead went to Mercedes' house. She had her suspicions, but wouldn't barge on my privacy. She was wonderful and awful that way.

"How about we go out to eat? We can head back then: I feel awful for keeping you away from your family this long." I began. "You're right about me staying with Buck." I rubbed my stomach. "I can make up my hours at work. I guess I'm not ready to leave Tulsa."

"You're only a junior," Sodapop reasoned. "Graduate, then hike on outta here. Colleges'll be beggin' for you. And sure."

"Let's go to the fanciest joint that'll let us in." I grinned at him, feeling more alive than I had in ages. Not the monotonous routine of everyday, or the introverted silence I usually kept.

"So, a diner?" he cracked, grinning at me. "But I sure am hungry after all of those video games. I aint had a night like this since…" he trailed off. Then he shook the sadness out of his eyes. "Anyway, good idea. I sure wouldn't wanna miss that rodeo! I aint ridden in ages. I miss it a whole lot."

"I'll love to see it," I answered, following him back to the car. I buckled myself in. "What's the most angry anybody has ever made you?" I asked, and to him, it probably seemed incredibly random. But I couldn't remember being angry in so long. I wanted to feel again. I guess I knew I didn't have to be afraid of anything anymore.

"Honestly," he confessed. "The second I saw your pa kicking you on the ground like that. Or maybe the time Johnny Cade got jumped. Maybe when Darry shoved Pony one time. Those are the angriest times I ever been. It aint easy to rile me," he finished. I shivered, and turned up the heater, rubbing my hands together. "What 'bout you?" he piped up after a minute. "When's the angriest you ever been?"

I thought about it for a minute. "The first time my dad ever hit my ma," I acknowledged. "I was six years old, and he was roaring drunk. I was horrified when she started crying. Mother's aren't supposed to cry, you know? Kids cry. So I ran at him and begged him to get off, and he slammed me against a wall. That's how I got this," I showed him a thick scar on my palm. "My hand nearly got cleanly stabbed through with a kitchen knife. She was making dinner. After that, I never let things upset me. I haven't been as angry or involved in anything since."

Sodapop looked furious all of a sudden. "That goddamn son of a bitch!" he spat, stopping the car viciously. "That drunken goddamn son of a bitch." I shrank back, afraid of this sudden turn.

This wasn't Sodapop Curtis. Soda was laid-back, carefree, easy-going, always smiling and happy-go-lucky. Soda's brown eyes looked black and he sped through the streets, zooming around, just because.

"That fucking bastard hit you for that long?" he demanded suddenly, slamming the car to a stop on the road's shoulder. He turned around and grabbed my face in his hand, gently, and carefully, but at the same time, his calloused hands felt rough and hard and almost too strong against my face. He scanned my face and his brown eyes were hard. "You don't hit girls." He was silent for a second, staring at my eyes. "I wish you had told me earlier."

I almost laughed. "Soda, I didn't _know_ you."

"Any man worth his salt woulda helped you out. Two-Bit would've let you in!"

"I'm scared of Two-Bit," I admitted.

"You aren't scareda Dallas Winston, but you're scareda Two-Bit Mathews?" he softened a little, the hard line of his jaw falling into the familiar lines of his smile. A light stubble was forming, shadowing his face and cheeks. His blonde hair was tufty and soft. He pulled away after a minute.

"Hey, Mare, I'm sorry," he said profusely. "I didn't mean to get all mad atcha. Hey, why don't we grab some grub over here," he pointed at a French restaurant across the street. He restarted the car and pulled into the lot. We walked into the place, dressed in our greasy clothes, tired and smelling like the arcade's plastic toys.

The waitress looked at us incredulously and reluctantly offered to seat us. Sodapop grinned at him winningly. "Sure, ma'am, we'd love that. Real hungry, aint we?" he charmed, raising an eyebrow. The waitress immediately collected her wits and lead us to a table, smiling seductively at Soda.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked, mostly to Soda. "We have Pepsi-Cola—"

"I'll take that!" he declared triumphantly, laughing.

"Soda!" I chuckled, and the waitress nodded.

"Two Pepsi's then,"

"Wait!" I called after her, futile. I turned to Soda. "I wanted iced tea."

"That's my nickname," he said quietly after a second. "My dad used to call me that."

I put my hand on his, and at that very second, the waitress popped back up cheerily, scaring me out of my response. "Here you go-, oh! Is this a date?" she asked, falsely cheerful.

I looked at her. She was seething. She was pretty actually, with brown hair curled into ringlets and a very subtle amount of makeup.

The place was class embodied, a Soc joint through and through. I scanned the menu. "I'll have the fish and chips with a side of the caviar," I rang out in my most pretentious voice. "I prefer my fish well done and with not too much sauce. For dessert, I'd like the peanut butter cheese cake. What would you like, Sodapop?"

He grinned. "Yer finest hamburger," he laughed. "I'll get some of that cheesecake though."

We sat and made small talk for a while. He told me all about adventures him and Steve had gone on, and the time he had accidentally brought his old girl Sandy home six hours late. "Her pa nearly skinned us both!" Sodapop laughed, remembering. "I was scared outta my wits!"

The waitress brought our food out and Soda dug in. I was more delicate about it. The food was actually fantastic. Kind of mushy, though. I hadn't eaten this well in… years, probably. I thought about the baby. It was growing in my stomach, eating the same food as me. I had to start eating better.

Sodapop and I shared the huge slab of cheesecake and painfully paid for the bill, goofing off all the way. We filled the tank at a gas station and it was only three o clock. The sky was gray, as if it were going to snow.

"Ready to go back?" he asked me seriously.

"Ready as I'll ever be," I sighed. "Let's head off."

**Thanks to JandMBooklovers, as well as beba78! You guys have been wonderful with your reviews, thank you! **


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"WHAT IN THE HELL DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING?" the girl, Ash, hollered. Her lungs were made of steel. "YOU JUST GO OFF AN' BAIL ON US LIKE THAT, SODA? Gezus Kerist, dontcha know how goddamn worried we was 'boutcha? You like as gave us all heart attacks, 'specially Dare!" she paced around, and I was filled with guilt. Soda looked abashed, but not apologetic. "We can't even call the cops 'cause me and you and Soda would get swept off faster'na snappa the fingers," she rambled.

Her frizzy hair grew in wild tufts, and she was the skinniest girl I ever saw in my life. Her silver eyes flashed every time she blinked. A spray of freckles danced on the delicate bridge of her tiny nose as her nostrils flared with indignance. Darry put a huge hand on her shoulder, and she immediately calmed down. It was hard to believe she was my age, and he was only three years older. They both seemed so much older, so much more tired.

Her sharp gray eyes focused on me. "Whatchu gotta say for yerself?" she raised an eyebrow. "I aint gonna holler atchu, but still. What's the deal here, guys? You _better_ got a good explanation."

"I gotta take her to Buck's," Soda said earnestly. "I'll explain when I get back, I swear it, guys. You believe me, right Dare? Dontcha?" he pleaded, his deep brown eyes apologetic.

"Little buddy, you aint going anywhere," Darry replied sternly. Ponyboy hung around in a corner, and I felt my face burn. They had been worried sick about him, and I had taken him away from his family like a crazy bitch. "Why do you need to go to Buck's place? You don't wanna show up there. It's not the safest place for a young, pretty girl."

I blinked back tears. "Need a place to stay," I mumbled. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I really am. It's all my fault that Soda ran off, he was just helping me out, and he said he needed to look at garage's anyway, and—"

Ponyboy put a hand on my shoulder, comfortingly, trying to stop my rambling. "Don't worry," was all he said, stepping back again. His bright green-gray eyes pierced mine, then were hooded by his long, long lashes. Darry looked from me, to Soda, to Ponyboy.

"Sodapop," he sighed. "You know, a couple months ago I would have hollered at you till my head exploded. But now…" he looked at the tiny girl standing with him. "What's your explanation?" he asked.

Soda looked at me, unsure. "Soda was going to give me a ride, but when we stopped at my fath- my mother's house to pick up my things, my step-dad caught me. He was roaring, blazing drunk, and he started to beat me. Soda ran in, just in time, and got me out of there. I asked him to take me to Texas. I just had to get out," I exhaled, terrified of the enormous man and his tiny girlfriend. He towered over me, or at least seemed too. The more frightened I became, the bigger he seemed.

Before I could analyze the expression on his face, Ash exploded. "Well what in the name of goddurned hell!" she raged. "It aint, never will be, an never was, right to hitta child." She paced around, and I felt embarrassed. I stopped myself from reminding her that we were the same age.

"I'm also pregnant with Dallas Winston's child," I confessed quietly, knowing they wouldn't judge me.

Ponyboy gaped and Soda grinned, hopping up and down like an overexcited child. "Innit great guys! Dally, of all people!"

Ash and Darry stared. Not judging: just shocked. Dallas Winston? I could hear it flashing through their minds, see it like a neon light.

"Welp," she said, wide-eyed. "Congrats, there. Hey, you wanna ride to Buck's?"

"There aint any way you're drivin'!" Soda yelled, laughing at how well this had gone over. "No way ever!"

She mocked offense. "Well, the fuck? I fixed that pieca shit, I should be ableta drive it! Darry, you been teachin' me real good, right, man?" she nudged him, and when he just grinned at her like a fool, she swung at him, a square punch to his stomach. He only laughed while she grumbled. "We're under appreciated, aint we, Pone?" she complained plaintively.

I smiled at their banter. "C'mon, Goldie!" Soda said cheerfully. Ash and Pony looked visible affected suddenly.

"What did you call her?" Ponyboy asked slowly, looking me over carefully.

"Goldie," Soda replied. "Mare-eee-gold. Gold, goldie. Goldie." He looked pleasantly oblivious. I was horrified. Had they heard any rumors about me at school, or something? I couldn't think of anything else that'd make them react like that.

But then Ponyboy looked solemn and Ash looked overjoyed. "Gold," she grinned. "C'mon Goldie, I'm drivin'!" she took off outside, in her bare feet.

"Dammit, Ash!" Darry half-yelled, half-laughed. "Don't even touch the front seat!"

I heard her distant cry: "If I can fix this heapa junk, I sure as hell can drive it! I'll fix it if we crash!"

"Who'll fix the rest of you?" Ponyboy mumbled, retreating into his room with a wave. Soda and I followed Darry out into the yard, where the moonlight shone on all of them.

Before, I hadn't understood why tiny Ash was with Darry. But he scooped her up, and she planted a wide, sloppy kiss on his cheek, laughing madly. He tossed her over his shoulder, fireman style, and she went wild, kicking and beating against him, until he set her down. She rolled her eyes at him, and I saw the spark they ignited in each other. She was firey and wild: he was reliable and constant. She needed a mature, strong man to help balance her wild impetuousness. He swiped the keys from her and hopped in the front seat, and Ash sat shotgun, leaving me and Sodapop together in the back. I was so completely glad to have him.

The car ride was silent: the radio was broken. But it was warm, and only took about five minutes to get to Buck's.

When we got there, there wasn't a party. Too late. Everybody would've been asleep, or gone. So when we knocked on the door and Tim Shepard opened the door, looking tired as anything, I wasn't surprised.

"Marigold Pederson?" he mumbled, peering at me through bloodshot eyes. "Whaddya doin' here?" he shook hands with Darry and Ash and Sodapop, and propped himself up on the doorframe. "Well, mightaswell c'mon in." he gestured. "Big Red'n his gang've been hangin' out here."

"Wondered where those idiots went," Ash mumbled, but flew silently to see them. Darry nodded at Soda and followed Ash.

"So whaddya need," Tim asked, knowing this wasn't a social visit. I knew Tim pretty well, Curly and Angela too, and he knew I didn't really frequent Buck's place. I liked Tim best out of his whole family. Angela scared me, and Curly was too wild. Tim was crazy too, but he was smart, and street tough. Not to mention gorgeous.

He wasn't handsome the way Sodapop was handsome: Sodapop was the most drop-dead gorgeous boy in all of Tulsa. He was sweet and charming, with an easy smile and personality. Tim was hard and rough, with a broken nose and slicked back hair. Soda was handsome, but Tim was… sexy.

"Need Buck," Sodapop answered, friendly. "Gotta see him."

Tim nodded. "I can guess what this is about," he said, looking me over carefully. The night I slept with Dallas Winston, Tim had walked in on us getting dressed. He knew me, and my reputation as a good girl, and he knew my father. He was one of the only people who knew anything about me. "Need a place to stay?" he asked, lighting a cigarette. "You can take Dally's old room. You pregnant?" he demanded suddenly, and without shame, I answered, calmly.

"I'm going to name it Dahlia if it's a girl."

Tim nodded approvingly. He and Dally were known for their wild up and down friendship, but Tim had been Dally's partner in crime. "And iffen it's a boy?"

"Junior will work." I said seriously.

He grinned at me. "Guess you don't got much to unpack, do you?"

I rolled my eyes at him. Sodapop grinned at us both, looking a little loopy. "Wait until the guys hear 'bout Junior!"

The second I woke up the next day and quietly padded down the stairs, I had what felt like a million guys attacking me. Soda, Buck, Tim, Pony, Darry, Steve, Two-Bit, Ash, and the four guys from the party. Casey? James? Big Red, I knew was one, and Jackhammer was the black guy. Buck and Steve and Two-Bit were clambering about, demanding to know everything. Everyone was so excited about my baby. I was going on seventeen, and completely single, but the people I could barely call friends were overjoyed. Mercedes ran in right when I was feeling overwhelmed.

"A baby!" she grinned at me. "A real live, Winston kid. Yer accomplishin' what other girls only dreamt of."

I choked on a laugh. Two-Bit added: "An I bet it's your worst nightmare, now aint it?" he hooted with laughter at his wit. Mercedes smacked him, and he just grinned at her, taking a sip from a beer bottle.

"Beer for breakfast there, Two-Bit?" Darry asked drily.

Ash grabbed the can and drank some. "Did you eat?" Soda asked her, raising an eyebrow.

She raised her hands indignantly. "I fuckin' made pancakes, ocourse I had some. Jesus, whaddya think I am, man?"

Soda looked at her hard, and dropped the subject, and turned to me with a grin. "All of us are gonna keep you company all the time. You're part of the group now, Goldie."

Big Red rumbled a laugh. "Hey, me and the boys spend enough time here nowadays for us all to be a real gang."

Tim smirked at him. "Aint often we get a drug dealer 'round here in Tulsa, to join little old Shepard gang."

"We aint partta the Sheps," Steve rolled his eyes at Tim. "Neither is Buck."

"We're all pals, is all," Buck said slowly, a glazed look in his eyes. High? Drunk? Hungover? Plain dumb? "Don't need to bring nonnadat gang shit up in here, man."

"Goldie aint got nobody to protect her," Soda said earnestly, my greatest ally. We had bonded, in my crazed adventure. "He don't got Big Red, like you did Ash, or Darry. Or Two-Bit, like you, Mercedes."

"I don't need anyone to protect me," I protested futilely. Derek had proved that when he ran and left me. I'd survived this long.

"Shit kid, you're fucking accident prone, obviously." Steve said scathingly. "Beat up, knocked up, ran away, and living with Buck Merrill." He grinned at me. He was being rude, sure, but not unfriendly. "You need somebody to protect you, and Soda's always been keen on wounded animals, and Ponyboy aint ever been able to—"

"Shut up!" Pony answered furiously. Steve laughed meanly, and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Come on, Pone, just messin' around."

Darry looked at them sternly. "Come on guys. We're gonna take Marigold out. Be on your best behaviors, each and every one of ya, you hear me now?"

"What's the poin'na actin' our best, when the poin's to have her gedda know us?" Two-Bit asked sensibly.

Ash piped up: "Hey guys, I'll drive!"

"NO!" everyone shouted in unison.

**Beba78 is wonderful, reviews every chapter and is super nice. You deserve an award!**


	10. Chapter 10

"You probably should take me home first. I didn't really think things through to the point that I'd gathered clothes. All I have are these jeans." I said after we'd all gone out to the Ribbon. Everyone was gone, left, or still out. Only me, Ash, and the Curtis boys were together.

"I wear jeans!" Ash protested. "What's wrong widdat?"

"Jeans are for guys! I wear skirts," I replied. "Why do you wear jeans?"

"Why do you wear skirts?" she demanded back, turning around in her seat. Darry was driving, and he snorted at her.

"Turn around, Ash. You're over-excited tonight."

She turned to him indignantly. "O' course I am! Soda's safe, an he's brought home'a broad preg'nt widda dead man's kid!" she exclaimed crudely.

"I just have to gather some clothes and my schoolbooks. I only came back because I didn't have anywhere to go." I admitted. "I'm lucky I didn't miss any work. It can be like this never happened."

Darry snorted. I'd've wagered Soda was gonna get it when I left. But maybe he was just skeptical of that idea. He didn't seem like he was holding any hard feelings for Soda.

"You can pick up right away where you left off," Soda said eagerly, "Only this time, Buck an me'll take care of ya."

"We'll look out for you now, there, Marigold."Ponyboy said quietly, looking out the window.

"Ain't that the truth! You need some help now, dontcha," Ash turned again, looking at me with piercing silver eyes, her nostrils flaring, her freckles seeming to dance. "You need friends atta time like this. Me and Pony and Steve and Two-Bit and Mercedes'll stick by ya at school, and you got erybody else outsida it. You won't lack for no friends, now." she grinned at me, her whole face lighting up.

Darry used one hand to shove her back in her seat, his fingers spread. He was enormous compared to her, and she grinned up at him loopily. He softened a little, and she held his fingers, her entire hand wrapping around his thumb. She was tiny, but not delicate: he was enormous, but not scary. Not scary at all. Maybe if I repeated it, I'd believe it.

I looked at Sodapop and Ponyboy, comparing them. Their coloring was different, but they looked so similar sometimes it was startling. They noticed me staring at the same time and turned, Sodapop's eyes soulful and brown, Ponyboy's eyes green and dreamy. I jumped a little. It was almost like seeing twins. The main difference between them was size: and Ponyboy would grow up fast. They'd all be tall: taking after their parents and Darry, who topped six feet, and then some. Sodapop was leaner though, more catlike, while Pony was growing into Darry's wide frame. It was strange to see it, and now that I noticed it, it seemed to be happening before my very eyes, both of them growing by the second.

Everything seemed to go into slow motion for a minute, and I faded from my body, as if my soul was floating away. Then I jammed back to earth as Darry slammed the breaks.

"Jesus Christ!" he hissed, unbuckling his seat belt. But Ash was already out of the car, her shouts nearly unintelligible.

"WHADDAFUCK YA'LL TRYNAPULLWIDDER SPEEDIN'!" she hollered. "WE GOT KIDS IN THE CAR! YOU DRUNK OR SUMMIN? YA ALMOST HIDDUS!"

The man climbed out of the car—no, the boy. He stumbled drunkenly out. "Shuddup, grease," he mumbled. "Duddnt matter… nobody cares 'bout you." His voice rang through the empty street. Darry ran up to Ash and pulled her back a few feet.

"You do understand that if I hadn't stopped, you could have died?" his voice was cold and authorative.

"Nubudy giva shits, bout any of ya'll, n 'specially not me," he mumbled, his voice carrying eerily. "Aint nubudy tryna care."

Darry pushed Ash away. "Get back to the car. Soda!" he called. "You're driving. I'm taking this guy to the police station. I'll get Steve to pick me up."

Ash obeyed, mutiny in her eyes. Soda slipped out and took the driver's seat. Darry was someone who you listened too in a crisis.

The Soc's car was in the middle of the lane.

"My pa was kilt by a Socy drug dealer," she hissed under his breath. "Workin' on 'is car wit Charlie, he got shoddat. Fuckin' Socs. Fuckin' cars. Fuckin' guns." She climbed into the seat and curled into a ball. "Fuckin' people."

Soda turned on the engine and slowly slid by the Socs car, askew in the middle of the road. He was silent. Ponyboy burst out: "Why do they think they can get away with that! Johnny and Dally are dead, and in the end, it's because of the Socs!"

I held my stomach tightly, feeling the slight firmness of it, the tiny bit of rounding in the middle. Three months. Six more months of holding this child inside me. Boy or girl. It was so scary to think about.

Soda was quiet when he answered. "They can't get away with everything. But some of them have changed."

"Cherry Valance," Pony mused.

"Randy Adderson," Ash nodded.

"I think the whole situation changed everyone and everything, even a little." I answered quietly.

"Two-Bit hasn't been sober in ages," Sodapop said soberly. "Mercedes said it's from sunup to sun down."

"Steve and Evie are falling apart," Ash confided.

"Cherry Valance doesn't come to school very often," Ponyboy admitted. "And when she does, she'sa mess. Bob and Dallas dying tore her up."

"I bet she feels guilty about Johnny too," I spoke up. "Johnny killed Bob, but it's because he attacked you guys, after jumping Johnny once before, right? The entire situation was Bob's fault. He was his own downfall'n she knows it, and it's probably killing her."

"She's probably never had a single awful thing happen ever," Sodapop said softly, eyes on the road. "Now that all this tragedy hit at once, she aint ready to handle it. Especially alone, which she is."

"Alla the Socs are alone." Ash spat bitterly. "They don't got no depth to 'em, treat each other like shit, aint got one true friend to speak of."

"That's why we aint one of them," Sodapop joked, putting a hand on her arm. "It aint cus we're poor or nothin'."

Ponyboy swallowed. "I wish somebody could get through to her. She's diff'rnt from alla them, the resta the Socs."

"She's a big-timer," I recalled painfully. "Her and Marcia and Bob and Randy, along with Lia Jones and Tony Michaels."

"We're big-timers too," Ash grinned, bittersweet. "Greasers, all of us. You, me, alla these Curtis boys, Steve n Two-Bit n Mercedes. Not to mention my boys, Charlie bein'a dealer an all."

"Evie and Sandy too," Sodapop said, reminiscing. "Sandy came froma real messed up place, for real, man."

"Tuff enough," Ponyboy grouched. "She aint around now, is she?"

Ash turned around and smacked him across the face. "Shut your mouth, kid. Other people have hurts too, and you can't make light of em." Her eyes were hard. "You think it's fuckin' easy for Darry? Workin' full time, takin' care of ya?" The lines around her face crinkled firmly, giving her a mean appearance, angry. "You judge too fast, Pony! Lay off!"

He glared sullenly back at her. "Sandy didn't have it hard at all, until she did what she did!" he burst out. "Johnny had it hard, getting beat every day of the year, sleepin' under park benches, gettin' jumped by random Socs! Dallas had it hard! When Soda helps my nightmares, I think about… you know who helped Dally with nightmares? Nobody! He had to grow up by himself! What about Steve?" he demanded, real tears coming down his cheeks. I shrunk away, frightened. "Steve gets kicked out every other day, fights with his pa, his mom doesn't do nothin' about it! And what about us, Ash? Mom and Dad died, all me'n Darry do is argue, you and Soda and Darry all hafta work… and _you're_ going to school, too! What happens if the state figgers out you're livin' with us and not the Cades? You'll be out faster'n me and Sodapop would be!" he started to cry in earnest now. "What about Big Red and the boys, huh? You know they don't have it easy, and neither do Mercedes and Two-Bit, so poor they could get evicted any second! What did Sandy worry about besides what skirt to wear on a date?"

Soda stared at the rear-view window. "Things are rough all over, Ponyboy. You're a smart kid, but you're just a _kid_. Sandy had to go through shit you aint never gonna understand." He seemed angry, not at Pony, but at the world. "Some shit I still aint gettin'."

"Life aint fair, Ponyboy," Ash softly mused. "Darry's proofa that. He works two jobs, almost erryday of the year, man. He works for you and Soda, and now for me."

"He coulda dumped us somewhere and gone off to college, worked his way through. But he kept us around, Ponyboy!" Soda said passionately.

I listened, fascinated, to all of them argue back and forth. The three of them were so _different_. It amazed me. Ponyboy's youth, his aches for what he didn't even understand. Sodapop's generosity, flushing away any hurt with a smile, putting every other person first. Ash's honesty, her ability to simply state the truth and leave it at that. All those conflicting personalities under one roof, the same shower and kitchen.

I didn't know what my personality was. My mother didn't have one. My father was too drunk to have one.

Why did my parents get married? It had been nothing but twenty years of heartache. After my brother ran away, my father disowned him, hasn't spoken of him since, and gets drunk every night. It isn't my fault that Derek left, is it? I was left behind too.

"Ash, stay in the car. You too, Pony." Sodapop said, pulling over. I cringed at the sight of my house in the sunset. I got out, rubbing my stomach frantically. He followed me up to the porch and looked at me. "You ready?" he asked kindly. I swallowed and looked up into those soft brown eyes.

"Ready as I'll ever be," I sighed and opened the door, taking one last longing glance at the outside world before stepping into hell.

The sight in front of me was frightening. Blood was stained on the carpet, broken glass and bits of old food littered the ground. Beer cans and bottles were scattered around, the ancient television askew, on its side on the flat brown rug.

I realized, embarrassed, how dingy everything was in here. Compared to the Curtis house, even the Mathews'. Everything was dull and dreary, old and gray and brown. I bolted forward into the kitchen, Sodapop on my heels.

"Jesus," he breathed. A train had come through the house, a whirlwind, a superhero. My father laid on the kitchen floor, shallowly breathing, his nose bloody and his eye black and blue. I stared, my eyes huge, like a deer's.

"Oh my gosh," I breathed. I ran a finger along my jaw, feeling the bruise that I'd been given only hours before. "What… DEREK!" I screamed. "DEREK, ARE YOU IN HERE?" I ran around the house, searching for him. Soda followed me into my room, and I held my abs tightly, as if protecting the tiny thing inside. "My mother isn't here. Nobody would try to break in here: our house is literally falling apart to the point where it almost isn't inhabitable. It has to be my brother!" I exclaimed desperately, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. He squeezed back.

"You're right. But it might not be him." Sodapop said hesitantly. "I don't wanna give ya false hope. Is there anybody else it could be?"

"Not that I can think of," I admitted. I began to pile stuff into a trash bag. Hairbands, brushes, a few shirts, my skirts, my toothbrush and tooth paste, soap and shampoo, my schoolbooks. "But maybe I just want it to be him." I closed the bag and began to drag it behind me. Sodapop picked it up easily, and took my hand, leading me down the stairs.

"Goddamn, I'm just glad he aint awake." Sodapop admitted. "When he was hittin' you like that… scariest thing I ever saw, man. You don't hit girls."

I shrugged. "I guess after a couple years, you get used to it. Derek never did though. He could never take the hits. I always wondered why he didn't take me with him, you know?" I asked sadly, surveying the damage in the house. "Its tuff enough that he managed to leave at all… but I wonder who I would be right now if he brought me with him. I'm afraid of my own _shadow_. Everything I do, it's because I'm afraid of my father, of being like my mother. And it hurts to wonder if he cared enough about me. I haven't heard from him since he left."

"When did he leave?" Soda asked sympathetically, hanging on my every word. I was embarrassed, but I knew that Sodapop Curtis cared about me. We'd been friends for two days, and he _cared_. It meant more to me than anything else.

"When I was ten. He was thirteen. He was friends with Two-Bit for a while. But this was when everybody was still a kid." I still remembered it. He'd spoken of it for ages, and I hung onto his every word. Then, one day, all of his stuff that he needed had been gone from our room, and his bed was made. I had known he was gone right then and there. He hadn't cared.

"He just bailed?" Sodapop's mouth softened, as if he wanted to ask a question but thought he shouldn't. His eyes were mournful, and seemed to swallow me up. They were enormous, with long fans of spiky black lashes.

"We're greasers," I grinned bitterly. "We already know that nobody cares. Raised on the mantra."

'It's not fair," he said quietly, his soft blonde hair falling across his forehead. "You have to live like this, while the Socs jump greasers and get articles in the paper about how great they are. Where gangs attack gangs and drugs are more important than life."

"Life isn't particularly fair," I mocked. "I bet the Socs have problems too. What if their cars break down?"

"Can't fix it themselves, don't be absurd!" Sodapop laughed quietly, careful not to wake my father. He stepped outside, holding the door for me. The night chill tightened my muscles, refreshing me. Maybe it'd snow soon. "Gotta take it to them greasers. They can't do anything else worthwhile!" he said snootily, opening the car door for me.

I grinned, and slid into the car, hands on my stomach. Ash and Ponyboy were silent. "What tookya so long?" she asked curiously.

"Surprise visit," I said shortly, not wanting to talk about it. I didn't wanna jinx my brother's return.

Ponyboy put down the window and lit a cigarette. "Jesus, what the fuck're ya doin'?" Ash demanded of him. "It's fuckin' freezin', man. You're quittin' anyway, you gotta do track, 'member?"

"Smokin' is for stress anyway," he answered.

"I should probably head off to work," I admitted. "Do you think you could take me to the Nightly Double, Sodapop?"

"I'll pick you up at the end of your shift and take you to Buck's." was all he said, turning the car.

**Beba78, my wonderful reviewer… the answer is YES. But not yet! It's a process! (Sorry, haha, fanfic won't let me answer a review and I couldn't figure out the PM system)**


	11. Chapter 11

I was freezing by the end of the night. Because of the cold weather, there were only maybe ten people who came in without cars. I'd been sitting all night, waiting for it to snow. There were clouds hazing the sky. I sighed and looked at the clock. Only nine thirty. Darry was probably home, and the drunk Soc was probably already bailed out by rich parents. I've always hated drunks. Alcohol terrified me. I looked up, and saw Sodapop staring straight at me.

"Hey," he said easily. "I'm early, aint I?"

"A little bit," I smiled at him. "It's alright. I'll only be a little longer. You don't have to take me, you know. You've done so much already."

He grinned at me, his lopsided smile as contagious as ever. "But I wanna help! Doin' good things for other people means they'll do good things for you."

I thought of Sandy. I could tell he did too. She was pregnant with another man's child, running away from Soda. "Does she answer your letters?" I asked softly.

He turned away, his silhouette regal. "No." he confessed. "God, I miss her. I lie my ass off about it, I say I'm over her and don't miss her. But I want her so much, I loved her. I still love her. Man, it just sucks." He bitterly wiped his eyes. "Everyone makes a big deal of me being handsome or something, but if girls want me so bad, why couldn't I get the girl I wanted? It just doesn't make sense. I hate when people say that. I hate when girls come into the DX just to flirt with me. Sure, I flirt back and smile and act like nothing's wrong. But those girls don't _get_ it, man. They don't get _love_."

My heart melted with affection. People looked up to Sodapop Curtis. People respected him because he was always happy, because he didn't drink or smoke. He was wild, spirited, because that's who he was, not because that's what life shaped him to be. He was like the horses that he loved so much. I leaned forward. "You're beautiful where it counts, Sodapop," I told him earnestly, meaning every word. "They don't get it. It's not your job to teach them, either. They love you because of how sweet you are. You're a good person, better than most. Sandy didn't learn. And if she did, she made a mistake. Bad things happen to good people. Maybe circumstances just messed everything up. She's having another man's kid, while with you. I can't imagine how guilty she must be."

He turned towards me, the usual smile pasted on his face. His eyes weren't smiling though. They were searching. "Do you think?" he asked quietly. "Do you really think that?"

"Soda, I'm pregnant too. With a random guy's child. If I had been with someone, I think the guilt'd be killing me about now."

He only looked at me, and I knew. I was his second chance. Sandy left him, but I was here and just as vulnerable. If he couldn't take care of Sandy and her kid, he could take care of me and my kid. "Dally aint random," he said achingly. "Dally was a lot of things, but random definitely aint one of 'em. Rough, tuff, hard, yeah. Real scarred up, and real quiet."

"At Buck's party, it was my first time even kissing a guy," I began quietly, remembering everything so vividly. "I had been beaten the night before, so everything was pretty vivid. I didn't know what I was doing, or why. All I knew was that it was Dallas Winston, and he wasn't half as scary as the stories made him." I blushed. "When we got all of our clothes off, I realized what he was seeing and feeling, and I tried to back off, get away. What guy wants a girl who he can't hold without hurting? But he grabbed me real close, and he kissed me. I was bewildered, honestly. I thought, 'maybe he hasn't noticed yet'. And he touched my stomach. I knew he felt it then, but when I tried to apologize, get out, he said "No, don't." I didn't get it." I laughed bitterly. "Dallas Winston is the toughest, meanest greaser that lived in Tulsa. Tim Shepard didn't even mess with him too often. I was confused, but you know what he did? He stood up, and turned on the lights and locked the door. He looked down at me, and it was the most humiliating moment of my entire life.

"But then, he said 'You're beautiful,'." I hissed out a sigh. I knew Sodapop wouldn't judge me, and he needed to hear this. "Dally was hurt and angry, and a hood. But nobody's born a hood. When you go through things, you learn to tough them out and live with them, make decisions. You grow up too fast."

"That's what happened to Dally," Sodapop furrowed his brow.

"That's what happened to Two-Bit and Mercedes, to you and your brothers, to my brother, to Steve Randle, to Johnny Cade and Ash, and to the Shepard kids. That's what happened to Ash's friends. It happens to every 'greaser'. We're just people, Soda, who have to harden ourselves fast and early and well. Or we don't survive. It happened to Sandy, too, I'll bet."

He looked angry. "Nothing never works out for us!" he swore. "Goddamn! I'm sick'n tired of life being like this for us, Marigold! We aint bad people, but we always get the short end of the stick in this world!" he stopped yelling suddenly. "I know it aint fair, and it don't do nothin' to cry 'bout it, but hell's bells, I'm so tired all the time." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "You got beat every day of yer life, your brother ran off on ya, Darry had to give up his whole life for me'n Pony. I work everyday, and don't go to school, 'cause I'm dumb. Pony watched two of his friends die right in front of his face, after our parents. Ash don't even remember what her parents were like. Steve pays his pa's bills, but gets kicked out every week."

I clenched my stomach, rubbing my hands up and down. My fingers were freezing. "Why don't you go to school? Ash and Ponyboy do. So does Steve, and even Two-Bit."

"Two-Bit loves school, dunno why. He's only a junior, and slacks off something wild, but he loves it there. Steve's smart. He could go to college for engineering. Ponyboy's real brilliant, readin' and writing. Ash's a whiz at math, but she only goes 'cause Darry makes her."

"Why doesn't he make you?" I asked. I knew he'd get that I wasn't trying to judge him or anything. I was curious about him. I cared. He was a good friend to me.

He sighed. "I'm dumb, I really am. I'm good with auto-mechanics, but other'n that, school kills me. I just aint good enough for it. It's better for me to work full time than go to school and flunk out. Ash works at the DX part time, like Steve does. She's a real genius at math, I swear, man. It's crazy. She can do all these crazy complicated things in her head. She'd kill me if I'd tell ya, but… she has this weirdo disease, and she can't barely read a word. She says the letters mix up in her head, and it gives her a headache. She's been practicin'. She read Gone with the Wind out loud to us. It took her a month, but she did it. Darry has a name for it, but I don't remember what it is. Dis- something, I think. Darry says that since she isn't his sister, she's his responsibility to raise averagely. He trusts me at the DX, he knows I can find my happy life. She's got smarts though, potential like Pony."

I knew what he was talking about. Dyslexia wasn't common, and a lot of people thought it was just people slacking off. But I thought it was real. "She's real small," I commented. "Tuff enough, but she's so tiny."

He looked seriously at me. "I'm tellin' you stuff she don't want nobody to know. But I figger if you're my friend now, and Dally's kid's mom, you should know. Ash don't eat. She hates it a lot. She's gained weight back, but when she gets upset, she don't act it. You wouldn't ever know somethin's wrong, 'less you see her 'round the dinner table. She takes a bite and runs off. That's when you know somethin's botherin' her. Just advice: go after her. She holds stuff in until she goes nuts."

I nodded, familiar with that reaction. "Thanks for telling me all of this, Sodapop." I looked at the clock. 10 o'clock. "Here, let's go." I said gently, and turned the ticket booth off, locked it, and took my keys.

He had the vacant smile again. Empty. "Sure!" he grinned at me. I looked at him, troubled. He could switch so easily. This wasn't the time to bring it up, but I wondered why he did that. He didn't have to always be the shoulder to cry on. He saw it as his role, to the point where he picked me up randomly and ran off with me.

"So, have you gone garage hunting?" I asked playfully, trying to bring back his real smile. But it didn't come yet when he denied it. "Well, come on. Isn't the rodeo tomorrow night? Are you excited?"

He really did smile at that. "Darry's finally lettin' me back on the horses. Course I'm excited!" he hooted. "I'm horse-crazy. Those critters are the loveliest things alive. All that spirit and strength wrapped up in a pretty package. I'll show Two-Bit for sure who can ride."

"Two-Bit won't see, he'll be so blind-drunk," I snorted. "He hasn't been sober in months."

"Yeah," Sodapop said sadly. "Three whole months."

I cringed and remembered what happened three months ago.

_When my father hit me, the thumps began to get a beat. Thump, thud, whack, crack. Stomach, legs, belt on cloth, belt on skin. Boot, boot, belt, belt. I was more than familiar with the floor after all these years. I counted bloodstains that had accumulated over the years: my bloody nose in sixth grade, over by the kitchen. My cut leg, fifth grade, near the front door. My slice above the eyebrow, the day Derek left, by the hallway. Head wounds bled a lot, and so the stain was enormous. No matter how hard my mother tried to clean, to hide the evidence, to convince herself that it wouldn't happen again, they remained._

_ The stain on the wall from when he cracked her across the face stood bright against the wall, to the point where she moved their wedding picture from its sacred position above the fireplace to cover it. _

_ Derek and I used to have school pictures up, but all of his were burnt, and I don't bother to get school pictures anymore. We had one family photo up, a luxury, but the day Derek left, m father smashed it with a baseball bat. It really killed him when Derek left. He was the pride and joy of the family. He was the smart kid, the one with the big toothy smile, the sense of humor. He was the handsome one. You couldn't meet Derek and not love him._

_ Obviously, my father didn't feel the same way about me._

_ "Geddup, bitch," my father croaked. "Where d'ya think yer goin' this tima night, slut? You tryna run off, liddle pussy bitch? Think yer brave, sneakin' 'round. Well, lemme tell you! You get knocked up, it's yer man whose really fucked, you stupid liddle bitch! I hatechu! I fuckin' hate yer guts! Get the fuck out! Ion't care where ya go! Get the fuck out, abandon this family you stupid bitch! You deaf'r summin'? GET THE FUCK OUT!" he finished with a scream and dumped his beer on me. "NOW!"_

_ I stood shakily and started to stagger out. The pain in my leg was unbearable. I had gotten used to pain, didn't hurt easily. I could stand a lot. But this was agony. I looked down at myself, and saw the blood running down my leg, my skirt turning red brown black with the amount of blood. I didn't know where to go. Mercedes had mentioned Buck Merrill throwing another party tonight. I'd go there. His ranch wasn't far from my house, maybe three miles. It wasn't too cold tonight. It was October, but not that bad outside. I limped every step of the way, fighting back screams. I usually kept a knife in my pocket, but it had fallen out of my cardigan sometime when he had whaled on me. _

_ I realized my head was pounding. Everything hurt. I tried to ignore it, but now that I noticed it, everything throbbed. I felt like I had been lit on fire. _

_ By the time I had made it to Buck's, it was probably midnight. The party would just be getting started._

_ On my way up the door, a huffy looking girl ran out, her skirt nearly showing her underwear, and her makeup smeared. "Geddout, you stupid slut! You won't be two-timing me again, you broad!" Dallas Winston hollered from the door. "What the hell're you lookin' at, broad?" he snapped at me. I kept climbing, ignoring him. "Jesus Christ man, aren't you Mercedes little friend? The fuck happened man?"_

_ "I'm not a broad, and I'm not a man," I choked out, my voice breaking at the effort it took to be blasé._

_ "Shit, well you sure don't look like a tranny. Real womanly to me, man. You got tits and everything."_

_ "I have everything I need, and what I don't need is you on my case, Dally." I told him dryly. "I'm not in any state to mess around with you when you're drunk."_

_ "Hey, I aint hadda drink yet, Marigold." He told me. "Man, who beat you like that? The kiddies at the daycare center?"_

_ "My pa," I answered shortly, still stumbling up the steps. "I'm surprised you remember my name there, Dal."_

_ "Two-Bit thinks you're a good influence on his sister, man. You're probably his favorite person right about now. She's off fuckin' Tim Shepard again somewhere."_

_ I shrugged, and gasped with the pain. I had almost made it past him. He leaned, shirtless, against the door frame, and he tossed away a butt, blowing smoke in my face. He grabbed my arm when I walked past him and I winced. "Dally!" I hissed. "That hurts!"_

_ He didn't let go though, and stared at me. The light from inside was flooding around us, and we saw each other clearly. He whistled. "Shit man, I aint seen nothin' that bad in a while, man. You always got that look on ya, or is it just me and Two-Bit who scare ya this much?"_

_ "What are you talking about?" I asked wearily, not bothering to pull away. He'd let go when he felt like it. That was Dallas Winston. _

_ "Your eyes, man. They're always huge. Do I scare ya, sweetie?" he mocked. I widened my eyes. _

_ "They were squinted, so I don't know what you're talking about. Dallas, I'm tired, and I'm in a lot of pain right now. Can you please, please, leave me alone?" I held his gaze, his electric, icy eyes scanning me._

_ "Shit man, I aint never been able to resist big ol' baby-doll peepers. C'mon, man, I'll clean ya up. You prolly won't even make it up the stairs lookin' like that."_

_ I sighed and began to make my way up. "Man, there's no way you walked here from your house. C'mon, I'll carry you." He sighed and dragged me up the stairs. I winced, still throbbing. _

_ He set me in the bathroom and pulled a little stopper of alcohol out of his pants pocket. He grabbed my leg and pulled up my skirt roughly. Anybody else, I would've screamed. But for some reason, I'd always trusted Dallas Winston. He was a hood, and he was scary, but he knew what to do in a messed up situation._

_ He poured the liquor down my leg, and I hissed at the pain. "Quit bitchin', it'll only hurt for a second." He pushed my leg down with his free hand, holding my thigh. His hand was warm, calloused and heavy. "Fuckin' broads, man." He mumbled to himself. "First Sylvia goes and two-times me again, with fuckin' Tim, then Mercedes fucks him, and now you're here."_

_ "I didn't ask for your help," I reminded him, jumping when he reached for my shirt. "What are you doing?"_

_ "What's it look like I'm doin'? I'm tryna take your shirt off! Don't look at me like a creep, man. I'm helping you out, and in case you aint noticed yet, you're bleedin' through your fancy shirt, Ms Soc-Wannabe."_

_ The barb stung more than the alcohol. I leaned back and let him pull up my shirt. He poured a little more onto my stomach, and it didn't hurt as badly. "Why do you say that?" I asked abruptly. "Why call me a Soc?"_

_ "You sure aint no greaser girl." He stopped the bottle, and took cotton balls from the cabinet. "With your fine manners and shit. I don't know no girls who braid their hair and don't wear makeup."_

_ "Maybe I'm just not trashy."_

_ "God fuckin' knows you're smart, headin' outta here. Don't wanna end up like your parents."_

_ "I'd be godawful at running away. My brother did it, and either he's real successful, or real deep under." I admitted, a smile poking at the edges of my lips. Dally concentrated and didn't bother to smile._

_ "Derek, right? Aint that his name? I heard some rumors about him. Doubt any of em are true, but I'm pretty sure he's alive, man. No worries, you savvy? Too young to worry yourself so crazy."_

_ "I'm not young," I rolled my eyes. "I'm your age."_

_ "You're a year younger, but hell, you're still an old lady," he did grin that time. "Here, let's grab you some clothes. I got a pair of jeans and a shirt lyin' around for ya. Holdin' onto it for a frienda mine, but you need it more than him._

_ He left, and I followed him to his room. He dug around in the drawers, until he pulled out a pair of boy's jeans and a sleeveless sweatshirt. _

_ He turned around to dig for a shirt for himself, and I looked at the pants. They'd probably fit, but I was still bleeding. "Dally, I can't wear your pants. I'd stain them."_

_ "Time of the month?" he mocked. Then he bent down and looked at my leg closely. Then looked up it. "Guess not," he snorted, and I kicked him, then gasped with the pain._

_ "Shit, can't even make a joke." He grumbled. "Lay on your stomach on the bed. I'm gonna check if you got bruised ribs, man. That shit makes everything more painful."_

_ I obeyed. He pulled up my shirt to the very edge of modesty and poked at my ribs. I gasped. "Yeah, you got outside bruisin', nothin' bad though, man. Didn't get off too bad this time, eh?" he asked, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. _

_ "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" I gritted out, pulling down my shirt. _

_ "I bet you can't even get up. Too bad for you, I'm going to bed about now." he laughed, and pulled off his jeans, leaving himself in boxers. "I got the town prude in my bed. Course I'm enjoying this, man. Shit, I don't get how you and Mercedes are friends, she's such a slut."_

_ "Shut up." I bit out, in too much agony to move. "You switched from being kind, to being an ass again."_

_ "I have to switch back and forth. I'm awful at multitasking, you dig?" he crawled under the covers. I was still on top of them. I tried to move, but I was so sore I wanted to cry every time I even blinked. "Come on, twerp, I'm catchin' some shut eye. You can stay here, you can leave. I did my fuckin' good deed. You hurt, stay. You wanna fuck, stay. I won't touch you unless you start shit, so don't be crying over your fuckin' nun-itude."_

_ "Mercedes isn't a slut, and I'm not a prude." I said, turning. I might as well sleep here. It was an oversized bed, meant for two anyway. _

_ "Mercedes fucks men for money, and you wrap a belt around your thighs to keep them from spreading. Guys take bets on who can get you two to fuck 'em. That's probably why you had a little more attention than usual lately, ya dig? Don't be getting' a big head."_

_ I wanted to cry. Mercedes had her own problems, and didn't need people labeling her. And I was the same. "Did you put in a bet?"_

_ "Naw, got better things to bet on with my money," he said with a grin. "I don't think you'll ever fuck anybody."_

_ I moved and kissed him full on the lips, ignoring the agony the movement caused._

_ He shoved me down onto my back. It really was more comfortable, but I felt rejected. But hey, kissing was a step up from nothing, right?_

_ It was dark and moonlight filtered through the curtains, ragged and ugly. He sighed. "Shit, you're awful."_

_I almost cried at that. He was worse than my dad. But then he bent over and put his lips gently on mine, soft and tender._

_ It was a surprising kiss from Dallas Winston. He leaned on his side and propped himself up with one arm, and with his free hand, covered the side of my face sweetly, careful not to hurt my bruises. It was long, and lasted forever. "Great first kiss," I said, as if it were no big deal for me._

_ "Great second kiss, man," he corrected. "Come on, the first one was pretty great too," he lied, and I laughed. But I was cut off by the return of his lips, this time more fierce and passionate, but just as kind. I felt my body become yielding, malleable. _

_ People said Dallas Winston was a born hood. But you aren't born a hood, you become one. JD, hood, criminal he might be, Dallas Winston was gallant._

**Read and Review guys! Love me! Love the story! Love Marigold and Dally and Soda and life and fanfiction!**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

I opened the door to Buck's. There wasn't a party going on this minute, so it was silent. Not empty though. Buck waved at me, his eyes clearer than the last time I'd seen him. That relieved me. I climbed the stairs to the bedrooms. It was a pretty nice place, he had. I didn't know he he'd done it though. He was only in the hump of his twenties.

School tomorrow. I think Soda mentioned Steve or Two-Bit'd be getting me. I don't wanna be in the same car as Two-Bit though. He's so frightening. Mercedes said that Ash has been babysitting him when he's drunk and when she and their mom are out.

Ash seems nice, if a little scary, I mused. But I'm best friends with Mercedes Mathews, and a lot of people think that's pretty scary.

Mercedes and Ash are kind of alike, I thought to myself. Mercedes is stubborn, brash, and proud. Soda sees Ash the same way I see Mercedes. It seems that Ash is more understanding than Mercedes though. Mercedes does not talk about feelings. Ever.

I guess it was tough for Mercedes to grow up, her dad drinking himself to death, and Two-Bit doing the same now. Not angry drunks, just always drunks. Her mom not around too often to cook or clean. Mercedes pretty much raised herself. Two-Bit… I don't know much about him. I hate alcohol and drunks. I go out of my way to avoid Keith Mathews. One greaser I've never worried about though, is Tim Shepard. His siblings are another matter, though. Curly and Angela scare the daylights out of me. Tim's always been calm around me. I know Buck and Tim and a couple Tiber Streeters, and don't mind them. The River Kings scare me though. Those guys are into some stuff that'd turn my hair white. It's not really reputations that scare me as much as certain characteristics people have.

The bathroom was the same way it'd been the night Dally fixed me up. The shower was a basic tub with a hose. I gathered pajamas and soap and a bottle of shampoo to the bathroom, and luxuriated in the hot water. It felt amazing after this weekend.

_I still can't believe I didn't have the strength to run away._ If Derek could do it, why couldn't I? I sighed, thinking. But I'd done something I'd never done before: opened up, made friends. Sort of. And Buck was letting me stay here, free of rent.

Angrily, I turned the water on hotter. I'd never been passionate about anything in my entire life. Everything was about being responsible, being invisible. I was sick of my own attitude. I didn't let myself care about anything or anyone.

_Derek, don't go… don't be gone. Don't leave me. _

I shook the thoughts from my head, and turned the water on hotter until it dyed my skin red. I looked angrily down at the bruises and scars battering my body. Yellow, pink, red, blue, black, purple, orange. "_Fuckin'_ rainbow," I said, tasting the word on my tongue. It felt odd, as if I was speaking in a foreign language.

I took a soapy hand and traced my body. The bruising on my stomach and sides were the worst. I felt for the thick scar behind my ear, from when I fell onto the corner of my dresser. _He_ pushed me, of course.

I wasn't a klutz, like Mercedes. There wasn't a single wound on my body that was my own fault. I counted them until the water turned chilly, and I still hadn't finished. I shut off the water, angrily. My stomach was just beginning to raise, a hard bump underneath the skin. When I had realized it, I hadn't been scared, or worried. I probably should've been: it isn't proper. But all I could think about was parenting. I wanted, _needed,_ more than _anything_ to have a kid to love, who loved me back. I needed to know that I wouldn't mess up with my child.

It wasn't fair. Men weren't held responsible at all for this. When I had the kid, I'd probably be ignored, be shunned by everyone, greaser, Soc, gang member and middle class citizen alike. A fallen woman.

Birth control. We had that now, didn't we? So women knew how to be sluts without getting caught, right? The more I thought about it, the angrier I got.

I climbed out of the shower and toweled myself off, then brushed my hair, until the straight, stringy strands rested on my back. I pulled on my clothes and wrung out my hair, tying it into a braid, perfectly smooth and straight.

I hurried back to my room and put everything away, marveling that this was the place where I'd gotten pregnant. Soon, everyone would know.

I realized that I didn't care about what any of the people in Tulsa thought.

_That's_ what freedom really is.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: Thank you SO much for all the reviews, favorites, and subscriptions guys! It means so much and I love it! **

I tore myself out of bed as soon as the sun began to peek over the horizon. I threw on my clothes and fixed my hair. I had all my stuff for school ready, so I pulled on my backpack, hurried to brush my teeth, and walked into the kitchen. There was food in Buck's fridge, and I took an apple.

I went to go wait outside, munching. A car pulled up, and I saw Ponyboy in the backseat. I climbed inside, and saw Steve and Ash up front, Ash arguing with him.

"Shut up, you don't know what you're talking about. You just came back to school, after about a month."

Ponyboy rolled an apologetic glance my way as Ash shot back: "I'm not dumb though! That math test is today, Steve, and those projects are due. Who did all the fuckin' work, man? Me. So I'd know! Better'n you, at the very least!"

"I'm not listening to you, you can barely fuckin' read!" he snapped.

She pummeled him, punching every inch she could reach. He punched her back, in the stomach. I blinked at that. They were going to get us run over, if they kept it up on the road. Steve pulled out of Buck's drive and pulled into the main street, leading us to school. She snorted and sat away from him. "Yera a fuckin' asshat." She muttered. "Aint any wonder you an Evie fuckin' broke up, you treat'n her the way you treat me."

"I treated her like a girl, which you aren't. You wear fuckin' jeans, and Soda's shirts. If you and Darry weren't fucking, I'd think you're a dyke."

She stuck her middle finger up at him. "Eat shit, ya cocky bitch," she rolled her eyes. "I'ma put dye in your hair grease…"

He leaned lower in his seat and merged into a different lane. "Shut the hell up. You're a bunch of empty threats. The math bullshit isn't for another week. February 1st is next week, Ash."

"It'sa damn wonder you got Evie at all, the way you treat wimmin'!

"The way I treat women, a gender you don't belong too."

"I'm plenty feminine!" she growled. "Tell 'im, Pone. I gots all the parts! I gots everything a wuhman needs."

"You're failing home ec, you work at a garage, and you don't brush your hair. You're not a broad."

"Damn right, I ainta broad! I'm a woman of America! We're all'bout liberati'n! 'Bout freedom! 'Bout kickin' ass! Aint that right, Marigold?" she turned to me for the first time.

"Put your goddamn seatbelt on!" Steve yelled at her.

"More than right," I decided.

Steve glared at me in the mirror. "Don't fuckin' encourage her. She's like a fuckin circus elephant that wants to play with people."

"Stevie, I might be piss'n ya off, but we're bestest buddies!" Ash cooed, batting eyelashes at him. "Feminin' enuff, aint I?"

"Iunno, how 'bout we ask Darry." he mumbled.

Ponyboy laughed out loud. I hid a grin.

She waved a hand airily. "Don't be mad tha' I'm gettin' some while you an ol Evie never did nothin'. Evie had you by the balls, aint that the truth!"

"Just where I liked her," Steve replied, searching for a parking space. Ponyboy's ears were red. I flushed a little, laughing.

Ash burst out laughing. "Nice one, Steve. Whaddya think she'd say iffen I axed her opinion on that liddle statement?"

Steve choked.

I bit back a laugh. Buck sessions only got guys into trouble, in the end. I looked up at the school in dread. Ash climbed out of the car, not holding any books or anything. She was only wearing socks, nearly black at the bottom.

Pony said: "Did you forget shoes again?"

Ash looked at her feet. "Guess so, man. Shit. I'm runnin' outta socks. They keep fallin' apart in the laundry, man. Fuck."

Steve rolled his eyes and grabbed a textbook out of the trunk. Ponyboy held several, and notebooks, and I looked at my knapsack, stuffed to the brim with schoolwork.

I clenched and rubbed my stomach, and felt dizzy, my vision fading away, as if I were floating, watching the ground from a different perspective: as if I were a bird. Then I shook myself back to normal, forcing myself to take steps, one foot, two foot, one foot, two, until I was at the steps of the school, standing with Steve and Ash and Ponyboy, watching all the Socs and greasers and middlers mill around, each usually staying in a specific area. The greasers and hoods, the minor gang members, all sitting on the field, some smoking, some making out, some fighting. The Socs hung out on the school steps, gossiping and cramming for tests they'd been too busy throwing beer bashes to study for. The middle classers buzzed around the quad. This was all year round. Only in the rain or snow would everyone revert to going inside, to blending with each other.

I gulped and climbed up the stairs as the shrill bell clattered. Slowly, people began to gather inside the halls, some going to classes, some smoking in the bathrooms, some just sitting in the halls. I parted from Steve and Ponyboy and Ash and wandered around until I came to the door of my history class. I settled in my seat, taking out my books and homework, and raised my hand at roll. I ignored whispers and gossip. This class was dominated by mostly the middlers, so I didn't worry about being harassed. Mostly I was ignored, sitting in the back. A lot of them assumed I was one of them, until they saw me with Mercedes. Mercedes was popular, for a greaser girl. At least, everyone knew who she was. There were all sorts of rumors going on around her. She hated telling people that she and Two-Bit were related, so for a while our freshman year, people thought they were together. Then when she found out and attacked the girl who started the rumors, people stopped openly gossiping and began to trade tidbits in secret. She was a legend, a rumor. Some freshman weren't sure she was a real student.

The only reason anyone knows my name, is because I've been in Tulsa my entire life. They'll all know my name soon though.

I dazed through the day, until at lunch, Mercedes found me. "Hey, baby mama," she grinned, makeup coating the circles under her eyes. I looked at her.

"How'd you sleep?" I asked her quietly.

Her face fell immediately. "Fine," she said briskly, ignoring my face, avoiding my eyes. "God, you have got to get me away from Kathy. All she does is bitch about Two-Bit fucking around. She doesn't understand that my brother and I associate only under the most momentous occasions. Hell if I know about his life. Fuckin' gang members were at my house again last night. I don't notice them, because they sleep, then leave, but it was all four of them. The redhead, the blackie, the bulldog, and the one with a shaved head. Fuckin' came in at midnight, while I was sleeping," she said loudly. "Couldn't get a wink of sleep."

I looked up at her. She was tall for a girl, maybe three inches taller than me. People thought she was beautiful, and she and Tim Shepard were constantly on and off. She never lacked company. She was a party animal, the girl who never went home, the wild child. She didn't mention that she had insomnia from memories of

"Well, anyway, Buck's throwin' a party tonight, so you aint gonna get any studyin' done. Wanna come over? Two-Bit got some weed, and some cancer sticks, man. We can make a night of it."

"Sure, I guess." I answered diffidently. With Mercedes, you had to read between the lines of her words. "He won't mind if we borrow it?"

"Borrow my ass, we aint givin' it back. He don't care. He got beer, and there's an episode of Mickey Mouse on tonight. He'll be in his happy place. Hell, he'll prolly end up over at the Curtis house anyway. That Sodapop is one good lookin' kid. Why he hangs out with Steve and Two-Bit, I'll never know."

I smiled. "Why do you say that? They're friends is all."

"He's a real tuff guy. Two-Bit's an idiot, and Steve's an ass."

"You and Steve have been at odds since that party last year," I recalled.

She snorted. "Me'n liddle Stevie have been at odds since the day I laid eyes on him. He drives me nuts, an I prolly do the same for him. Can't say he don't deserve it neither." She lit a cigarette in the middle of the hallway. I shook my head at her offering. "Dunno why Evie dated him for so long. She could do better, even if she's only a sophomore."

Evelyn Carmichael was pretty, with long dark hair and big blue eyes. She was shy, but I couldn't exactly judge anyone based on that. The one thing I knew about her was that she dated Steve. I shrugged. "Steve seems nice enough. You guys hate each other out of habit. He's going to drive me to school from now on."

"I've been driving Two-Bit's car. He's always too hungover to get up at seven AM. I swear, there's something wrong with him. I honestly haven't seen him sober in probably three months."

I blinked.

"Three months?" I croaked. That was when I'd slept with Dallas: that was when Dallas and Johnny Cade had died. When the Soc fight had broken out. I didn't remember the event very clearly, but Mercedes probably knew every event that had happen over the war.

I wasn't about to ask.

"Yeah, I'll spend the night if you don't mind."

"Good. I need help protecting myself from all of those gangbanger friends of the Curtis gang's." grinned Mercedes.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: I love everyone who has reviewed, and everyone who has subscribed to me or the story, or favorite. It makes me so happy **

**I've been working on this hard, and since this is part of a series, I want everyone to get a full idea of Marigold, but not her story. Because a story never has a real beginning or an end, right?**

**Read and review, guys! **

I blew out the strong smelling marijuana. I didn't particularly like cigarettes, and avoided alcohol like the plague, but pot was alright. I liked the feeling. The world got fuzzy around the edges, but everything became clearer: there weren't as many complicated layers.

It was midnight, or maybe earlier, and about a million boys came trooping in. The 'gangbangers', the ones that hung around Ash and the Curtis gang, Two-Bit, and even Steve. Mercedes snorted when Steve came in, and I stifled a laugh. I was hoping they weren't drunk.

"Wellll, lookit at liddle Marigold Pederson, smokin' a blunt." Steve drawled, amused. "Aint surprised to seeya corruptin' her, Mercedes." He took a cigarette and lit up.

The redhead was drunk. "'Ey, Jimmy, we metta Pederson once, 'member? Shady liddle creep, wussint 'e?"

The short guy nodded jerkily. "Fuckin' Tigers, man, they're everywhere." He replied moodily, completely sober. "Fuckin' hate them all. Betcha that Pederson kid's still breakin' the rock, man."

The redhead shook his head carelessly. "Naw man, 'e's sober. Aint touched the stuff cept ta sell it. Guess I'ma good influence, now aint I?"

"Yera good influence the way Case is talkative," the short one replied. "Don't be foolin' yourself, Big Red. Sellin' is the same as smokin' and shootin'."

"'Ey, it's gonna 'appen anyway, so why don't I make some cash offa it, ey?" Big Red grinned evilly, almost falling over on top of Two-Bit. ""Ey, you related to 'im? A cousin or summin? Dip Pederson, thass 'is name. 'E's called Dip 'cause 'e don't stay anywhere for too long."

"Tiber Street Tigers?" Steve asked curiously. "Them guys are hard, man. They make the River Kings look like pussies."

"They aint 'ard, they just do allotta drugs, man. Tiber Street's the base, man, but fuckin' Tigers rule the jungle, man. We got plentya 'em back home. Ash can tell you _stories_ about those fuckers." Big Red hooted. "Almost kilt a man onetime fer fuckin with her."

"One time, because everyone's afraid of us back home," the black guy said drily. "By the way, you jackass, lions rule the jungle, not tigers."

"Shuddit, negro man." Big Red said rudely, throwing him the finger and sitting down next to me. The man aimed a swift kick at him, and dropped down next to Mercedes.

"You're one to talk, fuckin' ginger. At least I got something your kind don't: soul."

"Gingers do 'ave souls man, I'm tellin' ya!" the guy laughed uproariously. "Wait, so you related to Dip?"

I jolted to attention. "What?"

"C'mon man, dinnicha 'ear my story? I knows a guy named Dip. 'E your cuz or sumfin?" Big Red took the joint from my hands and smoked some. "'E 'its up the 'eadquarters erry once ina while, fer some stashes. Dunno where 'e lives. Real tall kid, 'bout twentyish mebe. Skinny as anythin', man, 'e's tinyas Ash thur now."

My heart started pounding. Most of the conversation in the room was passing me by: I wasn't listening to Mercedes and Steve fight, or Two-Bit's drunken ramblings, but Big Red, this man… I looked at him with fascination. "Maybe. My brother ran away when he was thirteen. He'd be about nineteen right now. I dunno where he went: he left me."

"Didn't the Pederson kid get in a fight with Tim Shepard and Bick Brumley a coupla months ago?" the one with the buzzed hair asked quietly.

"Naw, Tim says he were there, but it were Bick and a River King, wasshisname, Aiden? Summfin stupit. Fuckin' fruity ass. Over sum rocks. Crazy shit man. I don't fuck around widd that shit, man. I gotta keep my sources real reliable. Fuckin' River Kings don't keep it real, man. Junkies, alla 'em."

"Yo, them Dukes are pretty good, Red," the stubby one sat on the couch next to Steve. I absorbed everything each of these people were saying. I wasn't about to get up my hopes about Derek. Soda was right: there wasn't any point in freaking out about something that could be wrong. It wasn't exactly an uncommon name. "They's all ascareda ya though. Yer reps been gettin' ahead of ya, buddy."

Big Rd snorted. "I ainta big shot, noway nohow, nosirree." His teeth were yellowed, but perfectly even and straight. He reminded me of a cat. His movements were graceful, despite his being drunk. I wasn't afraid of him either: for some reason, he reminded me of Dally. He didn't seem angry. I was scared of Two-Bit because he always seemed to be angry under his friendly, joking demeanor. I was afraid because he lied. He lied about his feelings. He wasn't always happy about everything. He only acted that way because he was as afraid of the world as me. He and I were two peas in a pod, and I didn't want to be like him. I was obsessive about control. He was always losing his. Big Red interrupted my thoughts. "I only gotsa rep cause we get around, Jimmyboy. I aint big: just… far-reachin', yaaknow?"

"Aint nobody know my name, buddyboy, and we'll be keepin it thataways, ya dig?"

"Yer just m'sidekick anyways, 'ey?" he grinned and rolled on the floor, cracking up.

"That reminds me," the enormous black guy said to the shorn haired one. "We have a meeting with the Tigers. I've been spreading our connections since we started visiting Ash more often." He spoke with a slight accent, and his dialect was educated. "We have the Brumley boys, but they're just as far from this territory as from ours. In fact, they only know about the Curtis gang because of Dallas Winston, and the Shepard gang."

Case nodded solemnly. His eyes were shaded, even though he sat closest to the lamp. Steve grinned obnoxiously, and said in a too-cheerful voice: "Dally always was a character. Tuffest guy around, 'sides me, of course."

"What fer? Them Tigers aint to be trusted there, Jackie, old boy." Big Red said seriously, wagging a finger in the air, still on the ground. I stared at him while he rambled. "If it's 'bout rocks, don't do it. Iffen it's 'bout friendship treaties an shit, make sure Boss Boy knows 'bout our rules."

"Rules?" Mercedes snorted. "What kind of rules does a hoodlum have?"

"We're a tiny gang, but we're consequential. The reason we're so formidable is because of all the connections we have. Socs don't fuck with us: gangs like the River Kings are afraid of us. We've got you, the Shepard gang, the Brumley boys, Dukes, coupla gangs from home you wouldn't know 'bout, and we might have some with the Tigers, starting next week. If all goes well. We don't mess with the Tigers back home. They're vicious. Basically, we have set rules. We don't attack unprovoked, we don't get into territorial fights between gangs, and we don't touch women." Jack explained, his dark skin absorbing the light. He was suffused with intelligence. _He was a smart guy_, I thought.

"Ash came to a rumble dressed as a guy." Jimmy reminisced. "Jesus, thassa broad. Extrafuckinordinary. Member how bad you beat her, Char? Damn. You were furious."

Big Red sat up soberly. "Fuckin' 'ell. I remember that more than I wanna, man. Shit. When I saw her, I don't think I've ever been that pissed. She never listens to me." He seemed angry, halfheartedly. His hair was greased back, but falling down onto his face anyway, and he rolled his eyes, cracking his knuckles reminiscently.

"JC Ashton don't listen to fuckin' anyone. She's a spoiled liddle bitch. Love her to death, but she's the bossiest broad I know." Steve interjected. "Thinks she knows everything, that's her problem." His eyes were huge, as if laughing in some memory.

"Too fuckin' stubborn fer 'er own good, tha's fersure." Big Red grumbled.

I leaned forward, ignoring conversation about various people and focused on Dip. I wasn't getting my hopes up. I was just curious.

I asked the stout guy, and he looked at me with narrowed eyes. But he answered. "Dip Pederson is shady. He's a real skinny, jumpy typa kid, yaaknow? I don't know him well: me'n the boys try'n avoid Tigers, we don't got an alliance yet. But he's a dealer, like me'n Big Red, so we have some familiarity. I dunno you, or what's going through your head, kid," he warned. "But don't fuck with those Tigers. Tiber streeters are vicious." He was completely serious, I could tell. Conversation carried easily through the room, Mercedes and Steve arguing, Two-Bit snoring, and the other three carrying a conversation about drugs and gangs. I agreed with him and my mind began to drift.

I scanned the eyes of everyone in the room. Two-Bit and Mercedes, with their silver eyes. Steve's, angry and dark, with crinkles at the corners from laughter and squinting. Big Red had soft green eyes, light and clouded. Smoky eyes. Jack's, amber and bright, glowed. They were almost yellow. I caught Jimmy's gaze again: he had blue eyes. Dark blue eyes, navy. Case, with brown eyes, soft and luminescent, but shaded, as if his eyelashes shielded them from the light, or as if he was constantly looking down, at his feet, his hands.

I wondered what people saw when they looked into my eyes.

Did they see the girl who worked so hard to escape? Or did they see the weak, frail girl who fought so hard to keep control, but couldn't?

Which girl was I?


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: Thanks for the review(s) guys! Especially my devoted wonderful beba78, who has stuck around since chapter 1! You go!**

**To the questions about marijuana use in the last chapter: Marigold is terrified of alcohol/drinking/drunks because of her father. She's been traumatized by years of abuse, so marijuana would seem fine to her. Also, people had different views on what was good/healthy/bad/unhealthy for them back in the sixties, than what we do now.**

**I've been a little random with updates, but that's because I've been working on a novella for my Creative Writing class, and sixty pages of original plotline later, I still don't know how to end the story… and it's due in two days. Shit, haha.**

**This is an EXTREMELY short chapter, I know, not up to my usual two thousand words haha… but it's more of a reflection.**

**Read and review, guys? **

"Are you awake?" Mercedes whispered to me. It was dark, and the only sounds were the snores of six men. I crawled over to her, and laid down next to her. Everyone had ended up falling asleep, with Steve and Two-Bit getting the couch, and everyone else on the floor. The moonlight sprayed in, and I figured it was probably about four.

"I can't sleep," she confessed bashfully.

"I'll stay up with you," I promised. "Mercedes, if anything is bothering you, you know you can talk to me."

"Shut the hell up," she said, angry all of a sudden. "Why can't it ever fuckin' be about you? I didn't know shit about your dad or brother, and there you are pokin' at the gangbangers for information ona lead, an you're fuckin' pregnant with Dally Winston's baby. He's dead, you're single and living with Buck friggin Merrill, and you were attacked by children for hours before you came over."

"I have my jobs for a reason, my dad is no longer part of my life, thanks to Soda and Buck, and I'm not worrying about the pregnancy until I get fat. Derek…" I hesitated. I had just blown off those concerns, but what could I say about Derek? "Soda took me to pick up some stuff before going to Buck's, and the place was trashed, and my mom was gone. I highly doubt it was a thief. So what? Did he go nuts and kill her?"

She shivered. "Is it bad to hate someone you're supposed to unconditionally love?"

"You don't hate Two-Bit."

"But you hate your parents and Derek." She answered.

I was worried. Mercedes must be worried, or scared of something. We hadn't talked like this in ages, and there was the possibility one of the boys could wake up. She was obviously freaking out about something.

"Mercedes, what's wrong?" I asked futiley. I knew, deep down, she wouldn't answer me. I was used to it by now. Mercedes _hated_ having feelings.

She rolled over. "I just can't sleep, is all. Ainta big deal. C'mon, let's try'n sleep." I knew every mannerism and gesture she used, better than my own. I thought I knew everything about her.

I felt a tear roll down and I turned my head in the opposite direction. I knew it was stupid… but why couldn't she confide in me? In a way, she was just as closed off as I.

We were well and truly messed up.


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: I have decided to dedicate this fanfic to beba78, my beloved review! Hooray!**

**For any questions about Marigold smoking in the last chapter:**

**Marigold avoids alcohol because her father's a drunk. But people had different views on marijuana and cigarettes back then, so smoking something that doesn't physically harm you, (or make you angry like her dad) wouldn't seem bad to her. **

**Here's a longer chapter, I hope I get more wonderful reviews? Woooooo.**

I didn't sleep for the rest of the night. I know Mercedes didn't either. We just sat there, each pretending the other one was peacefully asleep and oblivious. What kind of friendship was that? A bond in silence?

Mercedes stood up as soon as light began filtering through the windows. She walked over to Two-Bit. "Wake up!" she hollered in his ear. He turned away, grumbling. She rolled her eyes. "I knew he wasn't gonna get up. STEVE!" she hissed, punching him in the stomach. With lightening speed, he reached up and grabbed her shirt, pulling her close to his face.

"Do that again, and I'll kill you," he gritted out.

"Shut the hell up. You slept in my house, and you're gonna eat my food. Which I'm going to make. Because I'm a fucking fantastic cook. You're gonna quit bitchin', appreciate my grub, and drive us to school. While I'm making your ungrateful ass some breakfast for the third time this month, you're going to sober up my brother, because if he misses another day, he repeats the grade. Again. With his marks, there's already a chance of that. So snap fuckin too it, and don't wake up the others," she gestured at the other four, sleeping semi-peacefully.

I shrugged apologetically and followed her to the kitchen. She dug around for ingredients, and came up with bologna, eggs, tomatoes, and bread.

"Marigold, toast the bread," she commanded, cutting up the tomatoes. Her mother was never home, her father wasn't around, and Two-Bit was unreliable, so Mercedes had learned to cook for herself over the years. She was phenomenal at everything she tried: but she didn't try at things too often. She could drive, but she didn't know anything about engines. She could cook, but she knew nothing about agriculture. She was horrible at school, even if she was dedicated to attendance. "And make some coffee, will ya?"

I obeyed her orders, pottering around the kitchen, taking thrice as long to do everything as Mercedes would.

"Hey, I'm gonna go put on my makeup and get dressed, make sure that doesn't burn, will you?"

Steve pattered into the kitchen, scratching his head. "How the hell am I supposed to get Two-Bit up?" he complained. "He sleeps likea, likea log. A wet log." He slumped down on the floor. "Jesus shit, I'm tired, man. Aint feelin' too good."

I smiled at him and shrugged. He was shirtless. Mercedes might be used to half naked men running around her house, but the only shirtless man I'd seen in my life was Dallas. And how long did that last? Steve didn't seem like he was going to move anytime soon. I turned determinedly towards the eggs and tomato mixture Mercedes had going on, and flipped it. Then I pulled the toast out of the oven, and waited for the rich smell of coffee to mix with the meaty egg and fruity tomato smell.

Mercedes walked out of her room, pulling on her pants, holding a shirt between her teeth.

"What the _fuck_ are you doin'?" Steve demanded of her. She walked into the kitchen ignoring him, and buttoned her pants.

"Never seen a half naked girl before, Stevie?" she mocked, not bothering to put on her shirt. She threw it at him instead. "Gotta come in here 'fore anythin' burns. Don't think fer a second that I trust either of you to cook."

Steve spluttered and fumbled with her shirt. I laughed outright. Mercedes didn't care about what people thought of her. And as much as she hated him, she trusted Steve.

"I've seen as many naked broads as you slept with men." He bit back rudely. She turned around, looking hurt. But she had a steady voice as she replied:

"Guess what means it's a pretty average number, there, Stevie boy. An here I thought you knew whatchu were doin'. Guess what Evie told me was true," she sang, turning malicious.

"The fuck she didn't tellya nothin', you lyin' bitch," he said viciously.

"Why the fuck aint Two-Bit awake?" she demanded of him. "You lazy sunuvabitch, shoulda knew you weren't going to listen to me."

"What the fuck did Evie tell ya?" he demanded, getting up. I was scared now. I backed away, but he wasn't focused on me.

I realized that Steve Randle wasn't exactly scrawny.

Mercedes stood up to him, straight and to her full height, but even then, he was at least three inches taller than her. "That's fer me to know an' you… to not." She smirked.

I winced and opened the door to the icebox, hiding my face. I listened while they argued, trying not to quake.

"Goddamnit, ya little cunt," he seethed, and I could almost see her rolling her eyes. I didn't get it. Steve Randle was probably six feet tall, broad, and big. He had a wild temper too. I was terrified. "You're making shit up, aint you?"

"Maybe," and I imagined her waving a hand around airily, and turning towards the food, ignoring his fury. "Maybe not! Alls I know, is I aint tellin' on the girl. You guys got relationship issues, aint nunamibiznis."

"I'm fuckin' sicka yer lies!" he spat quietly, making sure not to wake up anyone else. "You're a selfish li'l _bitch_, _Annabel_."

I could hear him gasp. Mercedes didn't slap guys. Mercedes threw punches. And I could hear him rubbing his cheek. "Don't fuckin' call me that, you dirt-poor greaser. How 'bout next time daddy dearest kicks ya out, you kindly keep the fuck outta my home."

I was about to cry by this point. My stomach was sick with fear, and I knotted my hands, freezing in the chill of the icebox.

"You aint home enough to see me," he mocked, his voice taking on a strange, cruel quality. "Liddle fuckin' prostitute. How about you getta real job, 'steada fuckin' around with Tim an' suckin' dick for money. Liddle whore. Don't fucking ever let me hear you talk about Evie ever again. She's a sweet girl, and doesn't need a fuckin' dirty broad like you talkin' shit." His voice was quiet, cold, and definite.

I could practically feel Mercedes' rage flowing through me. She wouldn't let him see it: she was too proud. She would act like it didn't hurt, and he would keep bringing it up, and she would suffer on the inside and try to keep everyone and everything out, until she exploded. I was scared. I closed the door to the icebox and looked at him, my face red. I ignored his half-naked body and stared straight into his eyes. They were blank: he didn't want to let on how angry he actually was with Mercedes.

"Don't say that," I heard myself say in a tiny voice. "Don't talk to her like that, Steve. It's beyond rude: that's cruel. You don't have any idea what you're talking about. She shouldn't have said what she did, but you just crossed the line, Steve." I could hear the sizzle of the pans and smell the coffee. It was oddly silent. I could hear my voice ringing through my ears. He seemed twice as huge as before: I was about to throw up, I was so afraid.

I ran past him and into the bathroom, and puked everything up. I hadn't eaten much in the past few hours, so not much came up, but I yakked as much as I could.

I heard feet paddling down the hall and assumed it was Mercedes. I felt fingers pull my hair back and I was incredibly grateful. Mercedes rubbed my back while I coughed and wiped my mouth. "Guess its morning sickness," I gagged. "Better here than at school, I guess."

She didn't answer, just kept holding my hair back as another bout of nausea overtook me.

"Hey, don't be upset, okay?" I asked her softly, between gags. "He didn't mean it, Mercedes. He doesn't get it: he's just a guy. He doesn't know about what goes on. Don't let it hurt you."

The rubbing continued until I finished. I sighed and flushed the toilet. She stood up and left, silently. I sighed. Steve had probably upset her more than I suspected.

I waited a second, then went out to the kitchen. I realized I was ravenous. Two-Bit was being shaken awake by Steve, who was swearing under his breath, and shoving a glass of water at him. Two-Bit guzzled it down and stumbled into a standing position. He didn't bother to greet anyone; just grabbed an omelet sandwich that Mercedes had made, and drank black coffee, then slumped down in a chair.

I looked at Mercedes curiously. She seemed unaffected, but I was long trained to see the tiny shaking of her jaw, the bags under her eyes, the pout of her upper lip. "Get the fuck dressed, Two-Bit," she said without preamble. "You got no idea how sick I am of yer shit. You can't fuckin' drink the world away, ya lazyass."

Two-Bit didn't bother to reply, but he obeyed woodenly, and came back five minutes later, fully dressed, and swilling mouthwash. He handed some to Steve, who silently took it, a pensive look in his eyes. He pulled on his shirt and bit into a sandwich, his manner quiet. I guessed Mercedes had put him in his place, or maybe my outburst had surprised him.

We finished getting ready in silence, and Mercedes got in Two-Bit's car, while I piled in with Steve. He pulled away from the Mathews' house, and he said quietly: "Hey, Marigold?"

I realized I was rubbing my stomach when the friction warmed my stomach. I looked up, clenching my toes in fear. But he seemed contrite. "What upset Mercedes so much?"

"She wasn't upset," I lied automatically, for her sake. I rubbed my stomach harder, chafing it. My stomach was red from constant rubbing, and beginning to expand from the child. Boy or girl?

"I aint a idiot, there, now, Goldie," he said softly, as if I was a deer he didn't want to frighten off. But what did I know about deer? We lived in the city.

"I don't honestly think I should tell you, Steve." I admitted. "That's not my place to say. But please don't say anything like that to her again, Steve. Not only was it tactless, it was cruel. You shouldn't speak to a girl like that. She's not like Ash is. You're used to Ash not taking real offense to anything, and to Evie's sweet little perfection. Mercedes isn't like either of them, Steve. She's a true greaser: she feels things too hard, way too hard, and will do anything to hide it."

"She shares that wit' Two-Bit, I guess," he leaned back in his seat, one hand on the wheel. "I aint gonna apologize, bu' I do feel bad… she's my buddy's kid sister, don't neeta make her cry."

"If you wanna make it up to her, she's gonna need a new mechanic soon," I said softly. "There's a drag race Friday night. She's driving in it, but her mechanic's incredibly unreliable."

He hesitated. "I'd needa tell Sodapop iffen I did." He pulled up into the school in silence. "Don't mention nuna this to her, ya hear?" he warned but his heart wasn't in it.

My heartbeat was racing until I got out of the car. Steve terrified me now: his temper was frightening. I scurried up to the school building, and looked down, realizing that my stomach was beginning to grow.

I saw myself every day: little changes were ignored. But I suddenly realized I was getting a very obvious lump. In probably less than a month, everyone'd know. Then the problems would really start.


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note:**

**I seem to be lacking in reviews. Come on guys! Love mee Lurkers, stop lurking and give me some love! **

"Hey," Ponyboy Curtis stood at my locker, fidgeting awkwardly. I looked up from gathering books, and smiled at him. His eyes were dreamy and pretty, a soft shade of green.

"Hi," I said bashfully. We stared at each other for a moment, two shy people not knowing what to say. But luckily, Ash barreled up besides us, tiny compared to Pony, her blonde-red hair flying, and her freckles dancing.

"'Ey there, Mare, Stevieboy said he wants ya to hit up the DX widd us, we're goin'a see Sodapop, an Steve figgers Soda'll wanna seeya." She smiled, friendly. Her accent was hard to decipher at some points, but I got the gist.

"Sure," I answered. "But I don't know where Mercedes is."

"Her an' Two-Bit are off fightin' somewhere right now. I wouldn't worry 'bout her, she'll be real fine." Ponyboy said quaintly. His voice was like music, I could listen forever.

"Sure, I'll come," I stood and stuffed everything in my locker, including my knapsack. I turned, and Ash whistled.

"Jesus damn, there, Goldie, lookit chu!" she hooted, poking my stomach. "Yer gonna start packin' on the pounds, man! I bet ina month there'll be more rumors 'boutchu than 'bout the resta us put together!"

"Whaddya mean by 'us'?" Ponyboy asked her, shoving his hands in his pockets as we walked down the hall.

"Well, the whole 'Curtis Gang' an Mercedes, an Evie, 'cus she was wit Stevie fer so long. Sandy too, even though she aint 'round, I heart all sortas shit 'bout her, 'causa Sodapop an the Florida thin'."

She was as tactless as Steve. Incredible.

"Ash, Darry says he wants to see your interim report. He asked me to remind you." Ponyboy said suddenly. Ash raised her eyebrows.

"He aint my pa," she grumbled. "Dunno why he acts like he thinks 'e is."

"He just loves you, is all." Ponyboy answered quietly. I found myself liking him.

"He should start treatin' me lika grown up woman, then," she said superiorly.

"You're the same age as Soda, and he treats Sodapop like a kid still, too. He wants to take good care of you. He feels real bad about 'seducin' a child' or something," Ponyboy replied, his ears bright red. I could practically see them steaming.

A huge grin broke across her face, and she wrapped an arm around Pony's neck. He was a thick kid, and pretty tall for his age, I don't know how she managed it, but she did. She grinned right up at his face, crazily, raising an eyebrow. "No neeta blush there, Pone! One day, you'll finda lady to neck wit, though Darry fears the day. Havin' one heartbreaker in this family is tuff, but havin' two'll be really tough!"

He turned redder, and avoided her gaze. "Shoot, how will I be a heartbreaker? Soda is 'cause he's handsome."

"Shit kid," she smirked widely at him. "You are too!" Her words were confirmed by a group of passing girls who glared at Ash for hanging all over Ponyboy. "Killin' the ladies already there, Pone! You gottem ona leash there! Whipped! Kerchow!" she managed to climb on his back and he held her, patient.

"Well," he said stoically. "It aint killin' ladies that's a problem. It's gonna be keepin' them around."

I laughed, and he smiled at me, abashed. He was a smart kid.

"Ya got the best traits of the Curtis tree!" Ash declared. "Big'n smart an buff like my baby Darrel Shaynne, an' han'some'n charmin' like my other baby Sodapop!"

"Why does Darrel have a normal name, but you guys are Pony and Soda?" I wondered aloud.

"Cause he's the first baby," Ash explained. "They needed a liddle Darry junior, then they could go crazy with the namin' process, yaknow?"

We reached Steve's car, and all climbed in, Ash and Pony bantering good naturedly, Steve looking as quiet as earlier. I guess the argument had really stuck to him.

When we reached the DX, it was beginning to snow, lightly. I looked at all of us: all of our jackets were threadbare. Ash wasn't wearing shoes, again. Her socks seemed to be wool though, and that was good.

"Hey," he grinned at me, shoving everyone Pepsi's, and handing Ash a candy bar, firmly. She took it and nibbled on the edge, then tossed it on the counter and kept laughing with Pony. The redder he got, the more delighted she was.

The little store was warm, and I sat down, tucking my skirt around my legs. I looked at the lump that was my stomach.

"Well damn," Soda said, sliding down to sit next to me. It was still a shock to see how handsome he was. "I didn't notice how far along you were, Goldie."

His deep brown eyes searched me, looked me up and down until I was sure my face was red. He didn't have to point it out!

"I guess," I answered, drinking the Pepsi thoughtfully. "It makes it feel more real, now. Like a real baby that'll affect my life, who'll have a name and personality."

He looked at me sideways. "It doesn't seem real, do it?" he asked curiously. "Feels like a dream. Like, we're ina limbo or somethin'."

"Well, it sure isn't heaven," I joked weakly. He put his arm around me and took a slurp from my drink.

"Dunno about all of that," he charmed, and I cuddled into his side. I was glad for him to be my friend. I was starting to realize how much I really needed it.

Sandy was wrong to have another man's child. Sodapop would've made a brilliant father.


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note:**

**Looks like you guys got an extra long chapter today. Hope this means I get extra amounts of reviews? **

I was pulling on my shirt and marveling at how my stomach had expanded. It was only a little bit, but it made everything so much more _real_. This was my only night off this month, and I planned on enjoying it. There was a drag race that Mercedes and Sodapop were going to drive in, and Mercedes confided that Tim wasn't exactly upset with her anymore. I didn't know if that meant they were together again or not, but she'd told me that this was her mechanic's last race. I wondered if Steve thought about what I said.

A knock on my door disturbed my thoughts. I figured it was Buck. He'd been a really good landlord so far. I'd made dinner a few nights this week for him, and the fridge was twice as stocked as it had been. Of course, by 'I made dinner', I meant I invited Mercedes over and she cooked for us.

I pulled open the door and Buck stood there. He seemed sober enough, and that relieved me. I'd noticed he was kind of dumb, but he was a nice enough guy. Nice enough to let me stay with him. "Hey," he said, leaning against the door. He was one of the tallest men I'd ever seen, and the skinniest. He looked to be at least seven feet tall, but maybe that was my imagination. "If yer goin' to the drag race tonight, be careful. There's some deep shit goin' on."

"Like what?" I asked nervously.

"Summa them River Kings, an Tigers, an mebe some Dukes might be showin' up, to fuck wid the Curtis and the Shepard gangs." He said seriously. "You gotta baby to take care'a now. Mebe it aint my place, but tha's Dal's baby, an you can't endanger it."

I looked down at the slight swell of my stomach. It wasn't even noticeable: it was if I had only gained a few pounds, or had eaten too much at dinner. Despite my hesitation, my curiosity was sparked.

But then I shook it away. I hadn't even thought about going after Derek in years: why was I so curious now? A desperate need to feel part of a family?

I was having a child, and I didn't want any child of mine to be raised lonely. I didn't want my child to end up like me: I was scared of everything. The very fact that I'd slept with Dallas Winston at all was so beyond out of character that I was all out of personality. I was dull, drab, Marigold. But Buck looked at me expectantly, so I answered: "I'm just going to go watch the races. I don't plan on being near any gangs."

He looked at me for a second, grudgingly. "Chick'n dinner was real good. Tell that girl thanks fer me." He walked away. He was probably going to have a party tonight, but then again, party or no party, people would show up and buy booze from the bar. At least it was finally Friday.

I walked down the stairs and froze at the sight of Two-Bit and Steve. "There ya are!" Steve hollered at me. "C'mon, Ash'n Ponyboy are in the car, an I do not trust either of 'em alone in my baby."

What?

Two-Bit hooted. "No need to tell Marigold about babies! She'll know plenty about em, soon enough!"

Buck, who was walking past, aimed a punch at Two-Bit, and continued walking. I felt a flush of gratitude hit me. I didn't really know how to deal with Two-Bit, and I didn't think Steve particularly knew how to deal with me. I silently followed them into the car, where Ash was babbling on and Ponyboy was pretending to listen.

I sat in the back, next to Ponyboy and Ash, and watched the window. I didn't honestly believe tonight would be too wonderful, but I'd try to have a good time. I was too boring, I felt. I was shy and bland. I could be quick and clever on occasion, sure, and I was nice to anyone who was nice to me, but what was impressive about me? I obsessed over school and work to the point where I had no other interests. I knew Ash was a math whiz and mechanic, I knew how good Mercedes was at cooking and driving. Ponyboy won awards for writing, and he was a local hero. Two-Bit was characteristically a funny drunk. Steve could fix and drive anything with wheels. Sodapop was the most charming person on the planet. What was there to know about me?

I was… a slut? The pregnant girl of the town? I was smart and responsible. I was shy. I was a scaredy-cat.

When we reached the racing grounds, I spied Sodapop. He wasn't racing for at least an hour, but I knew Mercedes would be going up soon. Soda saw us coming and raced up eagerly to Steve and I, waving keys around. "Lookit what car I managed to get! Look what car I got!" he squealed like an excited child. "A Skyliner! Do you have any idea how much this ups my chances?" he burst into laughter, unable to contain his elation, and grabbed me around the waist, twirling me in circles, until I was laughing as hard as him. He set me down, and I stumbled dizzily, bumping into Ponyboy.

While Steve and Soda excited talked about cars and speed and gear shifting, how some guy named Peel was lending his cars to greasers and Socs alike, I stood solidly next to Ponyboy, who lit a cigarette. Ash yelled something and ran off with Two-Bit, wobbling. I guessed they were both drunk. I shivered, and walked off to find Mercedes. Ponyboy followed me, I guess because he didn't have anywhere else to be. I finally spotted her, after squeezing through group after group of people, some neat and Socy, some black with grease and the slickest hair I'd seen in my life, and some with the wild gang tattoos. Nobody was looking for a fight here: this was all about racing. It was odd, to see so many different people getting along, or at least ignoring each other. Refreshing, I guess. It was so different from everyday life.

Mercedes was sitting on the hood of a car, smoking a cigarette, and yelling to her mechanic about something. The guy ignored her and kept fiddling around in his toolbox. Mercedes hair, cropped short, blew in the wind, and her dark makeup was missing. She said she didn't want anything to affect her eyesight in a race. She was one of the only girls even _allowed_ to race.

"Mercedes!" a tall, lean girl called good-naturedly, her short skirt flying in the wind, and her long hair tangled. "C'mon! It's almost your turn!"

Mercedes grinned at me, and slid into the front seat of the car. I don't know cars, but I think it was a Mustang. How did drag races even work?

I must've looked puzzled, because Ponyboy began to explain it to me: "There are a coupla guys who own garages that set these things up. If you don't got a good racing car, you sign up for one of theirs, and they letcha drive it. The leaders are Peel and Jakey, and Tim Shepard. It was Tim's idea, and he made up the rules. He's one of the dealers. Sodapop wants to get his own garage and help run these someday."

I was surprised. "That's actually…" what _was_ it? "Generous." I decided. "They go through all of this? Look at all the Socs and greasers and gangs."

"None of that matters. Jakey and Peel and Tim are strict about it," Pony explained, lighting another cigarette and following Mercedes' car as she drove to the front of the starting line. "If anyone gets into a fight, they're out. If anyone even brings up classes, they're out. Peel's a Socy garage owner, an' Jakey owns the DX that Sodapop'n Steve work at, an' Tim is the organizational mind around the idea."

That was incredible. "How often does this happen?"

He shrugged, and tugged on my hand, shyly, as if not wanting to touch me, and lead me to the front of the crowd. "Whenever Tim asks Peel'n Jakey, I guess."

"Does Sodapop always race?" I asked curiously.

Ponyboy became truly interested at this point. "Steve's his mechanic, they're one of the best teams out there. Especially when they get one of Peel's cars. Jakey's go fast, but Peel's are fast and good-lookin'." He seemed excited now. "Ash's been dyin' to be a mechanic, and Jakey's close to lettin' her, 'cause she works at the DX. He's only bein' iffy 'bout it since she's a girl. But Steve told Mercedes that he'd be her mechanic for the next race, so Ash has to be Sodapop's mechanic. She's almost as good with cars as Steve, better' Sodapop, even. Even if she can't drive," he said offhandedly. "Watch!"

And I did. I figured out which car was Mercedes an instant before the horn went off, signaling the start of the race. Mercedes shot forward, in the lead from the beginning. The course was a mile around, and it had to be circled three times. I felt the familiar anxiety in my stomach. What if she crashed? What if Soda crashed?

I clung to Pony's hand. I knew that everyone in the Curtis gang only was nice to me because of Dally, but Sodapop and Pony were different. Ponyboy liked me because we were both quiet. Sodapop cared about everyone. And Mercedes was Mercedes. Everyone else only tolerated me because of Mercedes or Dally.

"Jesus," I breathed, when the final circle of lights twirled around. There were five cars, and Mercedes was falling into second place. I rubbed my stomach with my free hand and stood on my toes, squinting my eyes and trying to figure out which car was which.

The soft blue car sped up, and I bit my lip. It was the final seconds, and they were taking forever. I counted down, as they moved in slow motion. Mercedes pulled ahead slightly, head-to-head with another car, and was inching ahead until finally the screams of the crowd broke my thoughts, broke my ear-drums, and I screamed along, all the louder for that I couldn't hear anything.

"Who won?" Sodapop's voice made me jump, and I continued holding Ponyboy's hand. Sodapop slipped his hand into mind and I was connected between two strong brothers. He squeezed reassuringly, and his smile shone in the moonlight, glinting with all the car lights and the instant flashes of lighters.

"Mercedes and some other car were neck and neck," I replied, and Soda turned away, pulling me to one side, arm around me, and Pony on his other side.

"You kids chilly?" he asked comfortably, hanging on us. Ponyboy shrugged at the same time I did, and Soda bounced up and down. "I can't wait for my turn, man. I love these things."

"Never woulda guessed," I replied dryly. Ponyboy flashed a smile: Sodapop was barely containing his jubilation.

A girl walked up to me, from my history class, I think, and stopped dead when she saw who I was with.

I wasn't kidding when I said that a lot of Socs mistook me for one of them, or for middle-class. Seeing me with the Curtis brothers must've surprised her.

"Hey Marcia," I said quietly. She unfroze and walked up to me, as friendly as could be, though. It was strange. She reacted the way any normal Soc would, but as soon as she regained her composure, she behaved as if nothing was different.

"Hey, Ponyboy," she smiled at him, and he gave a shy smile back. She looked up at Sodapop. "I'm Marcia. I'm a friend of Marigold's." her white blouse was bright in the darkness, and her short, dark hair was neatly bobbed, as if she had just gotten it trimmed.

"Sodapop Curtis," he introduced himself, adjusting his face to a better light. She smiled even bigger when she saw him. Sodapop grinned at her lazily, charming her.

"You work at the DX station! You're the cute one," she was being flirtatious, but she was friendly, not scheming. "Cherry was right when she said there's a resemblance between you two," she nodded at Ponyboy.

I almost laughed outright when he turned beet-red and smiled, and Sodapop grinned hugely. "Almost as handsome as me, innit he?" he charmed, his public face on. "I know it's difficult to stand in the sun's shadow though, there, Pone, so don't be too disappointed," he teased.

"Yeah, you might go blind!" she said brightly, as Two-Bit came up with Ash, both of them almost reeling.

"Well, aint you a sight for blind eyes," cracked Two-Bit. "How ya doin' there, Marcia?"

"If I'm a sight for blind eyes, you're a nightshade for twenty-twenty vision," she answered, raising an eyebrow at the same time he did.

"Such wit! Can't keep up widdit right now, too drunk."

"Don't make excuses," Marcia told him, smirking. He laughed uproariously, leaning on Ash. Only it didn't work too well, because he was about a foot taller than her, and he ended up falling over.

Steve came running over, panting. "Hey there, buddy," he said, grabbing Two-Bit's beer. "Jesus, has anyone seen Mercedes?"

Two-Bit hooted. "No, an I aint lookin'!" he took Ash's beer and handed it to Steve. "Yer gonna need it if yer dealin with that sister o' mine," he sighed. "Where did I grow wrong with her? What monster did I go!"

"You're a liddle drunk there, Two-Bit," Ash grinned at him superiorly at Two-Bit, sitting on the ground. "Aint holdin' yer liquor too well, aintcha?"

"Shuddup, yer less sober'n me!" Two-Bit shot back. Steve rolled his eyes and looked around the crowd frantically.

"What's wrong there, buddy?" Sodapop asked him.

"Friggin' broads." Steve mumbled crazily. "I swear to god, that broad'll kill me before my time, Sodapop."

Marcia hid a smile. She was sweet, but had a sense of humor, and watching a scary greaser panic over a girl was probably endlessly amusing to her.

"Hey," Ash said decidedly, stumbling over to Marcia, leaning on her. "Sorry there, Marshal. Hey Steef, buddy, ya think if I teach her to fix cars, she'll teach me ta drive 'em?"

"NO WAY IN _HELL_ ARE YOU GETTING LESSONS FROM THAT CRAZY BROAD!" Steve hollered, hands on his head in horror, mussing his hair. "Iunno how that broad manages to get under my skin so bad, but she's gonna end up makin' me old afore my time."

I grinned. Mercedes and Steve drove each other nuts, and even though I felt bad about their worse fights, it was entertaining to watch them constantly at each other's throats.

"Where's Tim? She'll probably be with him. I think they're together again," I told him timidly, hiding my smile and leaning closer to Sodapop, away from Steve and Two-Bit.

He pulled me closer to reassure me, unaware of the reason why I was so nervous, but wanting to make me feel better. He was such a genuinely good guy. I appreciated the gesture more than he knew. I hid my terror pretty well by now.

Living in a shell will do that to you.


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note:**

**Bringing back some memories! I like Marcia. And I like Randy. And I like adding old spice to new twists! **

**THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH TO EVERYONE! For what I've been lacking in reviews, I've been gaining in subscribers. It does mean a lot guys: so thank you!**

"SECOND PLACE!" Mercedes fumed, as soon as Sodapop left to get ready for his race. "How the fuck did I get second place? Against Randy Adderson!"

Marcia seemed a little intimidated by Mercedes, but at the mention of Randy, she piped up: "Randy and I went together. He's a crazy man in the car, even down the Ribbon."

"But… I SHOULD'VE WON!" she howled angrily, stamping her foot. "Dammit! Tim had bets on me! He's gonna kill me, man!"

"Not if I get to ya first," Steve Randle growled dangerously, walking up. Mercedes looked over her shoulder at him, dismissing him. She opened her mouth to say more, but Steve had the look in his eye fit for murder. If looks could kill…

He grabbed Mercedes' arm and forcibly dragged her away, bloody death in his eyes. It was so funny to watch those two firecrackers explode at each other.

Marcia, wide-eyed looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "He isn't gonna _hit_ her or anything, right?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," I admitted, and her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. "But she'd hit back, harder. People shouldn't be surprised at that. This is the sixties! Women are equal to men!" I declared. Or at least, Mercedes was equal to Steve. Hitting people smaller than you was different. I knew from experience.

She shrugged and giggled at me. "So how about that Two-Bit, a real charmer, right? How do you know all of these people, Marigold? Do you come to these races often?"

It was my turn to be wide-eyed. "Oh, goodness, no. I know them because," I hesitated. Although I'd trusted the Curtis gang and Tim and Mercedes, I couldn't trust Marcia, as sweet as she was. She was friends with Cherry Valance. "Mercedes is Two-Bit's sister, and we're very close, since childhood."

She nodded sprightly. Then sighed. "Two-Bit is so funny. I think we get along very well, don't you?"

"Better than you and Randy did, back when you dated."

She waved a hand. "He's changed, he's not some big-shot Soc anymore. In fact, we're friends now, he's quite lovely. But Two-Bit, that's a cutie," she winked hugely at me.

"Sodapop's going to race!" Ponyboy ran up to me, excitedly, cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He tugged on my hand, and I waved at Marcia to follow. Ponyboy leapt through the crowds excitedly. "He's as good as Mercedes is, maybe better. Watch!" he commanded, falling silent.

I searched for Soda, and when I finally spied him, he was overjoyed. He was bouncing around like a kid, laughing at nothing because he was so happy. This was jubilance. I'd never seen him so happy. I guessed Ponyboy was used to seeing his brother this happy. It brought a warm feeling to my heart. It felt good to see him happy. He was infectiously blissful.

The starting horn went off, and for a second, I thought Soda wasn't going to race: but a split second later, he shot off the start line, twice as fast as any other drivers. But noticing it, the car in the lead shot down on the acceleration, zooming forward a split second after Soda nearly passed him. The lights and colors were so vivid, and I could feel the wind from the cars even from where we stood. They were going at least a hundred, even the slowest one.

Antsy, I bounced on my heels, watching Soda race ahead, the speed almost frightening. I felt like I was twirling around, because he moved so quickly that he was never in the same spot. He made his way to the front, and accelerated to the point where it was obvious he'd win. The anticipation was over: he crossed the finish line, flashing his headlights victoriously. The crowd roared when Soda climbed out of the car and jumped on the hood, pumping his fists happily. His ecstasy was infectious. Marcia clapped delightedly, and Ponyboy grinned, letting his cigarette fall to the ground. He led us through to where the starting line was, and Soda was getting clapped on the back.

"Nice job, Curtis." A tall man with a scruffy beard and short black hair clapped him on the back. "Ya did good."

"Thanks, Jakey," Soda grinned at him, and Ponyboy ran up to him eagerly. "Hey Pone!" he wrapped an arm around his brother and smirked. "Come to greet the champion?"

"Where?" Marcia looked around blankly, and Soda looked so put out, I couldn't fight the smile that spread across my face. Then she grinned too, and Ponyboy laughed.

"Hey there, buddy, you did great out there!" Steve's mood seemed to have lightened considerably. I guess he'd fought with Mercedes and gotten it out of his system. I don't know why they were always fighting. They could always avoid each other. But I guess because of Two-Bit and Tim and Soda and I, they couldn't. They got along twice as well when they didn't have to see each other often.

"Check out da liddle boy!" Ash popped up, originally unnoticed because of her diminutive size. "He won da race! Waitill I tell Dare… oooo, we got a winner in da fami—" she was cut off by a huge burp, that smelled like beer. I stepped slightly away from her, rubbing my stomach. It was chilly. I looked down and saw Ash wasn't wearing shoes. Her socks were disgusting. I wondered how she didn't get frostbite.

"Where's Mercedes, Steve?" I asked him quietly, and he turned to me, a strange expression crossing his face.

"Hell if I know. Crazy broad. I can't keep up wid her." He grumbled.

I sighed. "Congratulations, Soda!" I told him, smiling softly. "You deserve it, champ."

He smirked. "Well, it's in the Curtis blood, man!" he mussed Ponyboy's hair and hooted. "I'm number one!"

Marcia turned to Steve. "Hey, where is Two-Bit?" she asked politely, reserved.

Ash spoke up. "Drunken fool's prolly high outta his mind somewheres. Mebe 'e's asleep somewhere, Iunno."

She looked horrified. "You aren't searching for him?"

"Two-Bit can take care of himself," Ponyboy rolled his eyes. "He doesn't remember what it's like to be sober."

"He came to school every day this week! Mercedes made him get up." I protested futilely. I didn't know why I'd stand up for him. I wanted to believe he was sober, he wasn't like my father.

"Ya, hungover as a wet log," Steve snorted.

Marcia looked a little disappointed, but I saw the set to her jaw and the sparkle in her eyes that I was long familiar with. Soc or no Soc, she wanted Two-Bit Mathews. And a spoiled Soc always got what she wanted.


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note:**

**Kind of a short chapter… but it's very revealing. The plot should really start to get rolling now! :D **

"Come on, Sodapop!" I laughed. "Your break is almost over, and I have to be at the Nighty Double soon for my shift!"

He winked at me and turned to the fruit aisle. "I love fruits. Vegetables tastes nasty, man, I like fruit. Fruit's sweet." He popped a grape in his mouth mischeviously. "Whaddya think Buck-o likes?"

"He eats anything we give him," I admitted. "Mercedes does most of the cooking anyway. But she's off to god-knows-where with Ash's gang friends."

Soda poked me. "I can tell. Gettin' a liddle chubby there?" he teased, putting his hand on my stomach. I smacked his hand away and hid a laugh.

"I'm still in better shape than you. I _walk_ places, Fancy Mechanic man," I smiled and turned to the strawberries and decided if the price was worth it.

"Hey, Ash's the one who fixed the car. I swear, for a broad who can't drive an inch without an accident, that woman is better'n Steve and me at fixin' cars." He shook his head. "And Two-Bit's been hangin' out quite a bit with 'the gang', I bet that's why Mercedes is there. She'n Ash got their hands full with him," he shook his head and ate another grape.

"Soda, you're gonna get in trouble," I hissed, passing by the grapes and grabbing some apples. I'd make Mercedes teach me to make pie or something. Or probably, Buck and I'd eat them raw.

"I can always weasel my way out," he grinned. "I can run away to the getaway car!"

"Speaking of car, I left my money in there. Would you please grab it before you get us kicked out of here?" I asked wryly. He was incorrigible.

He ran out to the car, doing cartwheels in the middle of the vegetable aisle. I sighed, unable to hide my smile. Taking Sodapop Curtis shopping was like bringing a three year old. He sat on the cart, he zoomed past elderly citizens with it. Once he was bored and had an entertaining idea in his head, god forbid anyone get in his way. He had no regard for rules: but it didn't matter, he was never in trouble. His charisma was endless.

I was deciding if I should get oranges, when my mother stood next to me.

"Hello, Marigold," she said quietly. "Where have you been? Your father is close to calling the police."

"If he called the police, they'd find out his dirty little secret. I'm staying with friends," I answered stoutly. For lack of a better word: Shit.

"Sweetie, you know he doesn't mean it. He promised he wouldn't do it again," she pleaded, holding a pack of cigarettes and his favorite dinner in her hands.

"Mom, he's said that before," unwillingly, I felt tears in my eyes blur my vision. I loved my mom: she was weak, she was cowardly, but she was my mother. "He's not even my dad… remember?"

"But he raised you anyway!" she begged. "Please, honey…"

"How did that even happen anyway? You're too scared to even change his channel!" I felt desperate for answers.

"Todd was a friend. He was there for me when your father and I'd fight, and he protected me from your father's rages: we were all friends for years. I loved them both. But your father asked me to marry him before Todd did—"

"You mean, Richard asked you to marry him before my father did." I corrected her. It felt rude, disrespectful, but I was fighting back anger.

"Yes," she sighed. "One night, your father and I argued terribly, and Todd comforted me."

"In the oldest sense of the word," I retorted, getting upset, praying Soda wouldn't come back too early.

She looked at me reproachfully, and I almost bowed my head in deference. She was my mother, after all.

"Nine months later, you were here. And Richard killed Todd. He beat him up so badly in Texas that Todd died. We haven't spoken of it since." This was such a strange conversation to have in a grocery store.

"So Richard's always had a violent temper," I stated bitterly, feeling weird to address him as that after knowing him as 'father' my entire life.

"Yes… but at first, he was gallant. I guess he just became bitter and drunk… I still see it, sometimes, Marigold, that man I fell in love with. Don't judge him too much. He's had a lot of disappointments."

"And that's an excuse?" I curtly replied. She was weak, and… female. That's exactly the problem, I figured. She was the typical fifties housewife: she didn't change with the generations. She was stuck in the kitchen, in the garden, in the grocery store. That was her world, and she'd never experience anything else.

Maybe if I got married, I couldn't either. Because I was a woman. Thinking about it made me furious. Women could vote, and I bet she didn't know what democracy was.

"He takes things, hard, Marigold, sweetie. I still love him."

"I'm surprised he hasn't beat it out of you yet." Sodapop came up and put a protective arm around me. His voice was cool, warning. I felt my resolve stiffen immediately.

She raised an eyebrow. "Love doesn't have to change just because people do." she looked at me imploringly. "Please, sweetie… I'm not asking you to come home… just… forgive us. Someday you'll understand."

Soda looked at her angrily as she left quietly. "I'm sorry I was so rude to her, Goldie. I just got so mad. Don't let your resolve weaken. You gotta stay with Buck, aint nothin' she can do to change that." he then looked apologetic. "I should apologize though." He looked after her, but couldn't see her, and shook his head. "I don't mean to be a jerk, I just feel protective around you," he explained with a grin. "Steve wants to kill you though."

I looked at him, wide-eyed. "Why!"

"'Cause he thinks you're secretly the evil mastermind behind Mercedes drivin' him nuts."

"What?" I hissed, walking to the line, Soda's DX shirt dirty and stained. "That's _all_ Mercedes. Steve scares me too much for me to mess with him."

"Steve wouldn't hurt ya. The only girl he'd ever hurt is Mercedes. And hell, he wouldn't even hurt her. Her death would be fast an' painless," he laughed.

I looked at him. "Those two are gonna kill someone in their crossfire." I shook my head. "I only hope it isn't me."


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note:**

**So the last chapter was filled with some shocks for Marigold. :o **

**Her dad knows about everything, and that's why he's so bitter towards Marigold. He had to raise his wife's child. Not his. He's bitter and filled with disappointments, and too weak to be able to handle it properly. But back in this time, people didn't go around shouting about adultery and infidelity. **

**Hope you guys like it. Read and review! **

**And to all the lurkers: thanks for all the subscriptions ;)**

The Soc leaned over at the ticket booth: "Hey babycakes. How about we go on over to my place and get acquainted?"

I clenched my stomach nervously, but coolly as could be, replied: "My name's Marigold, by the way." I rolled my eyes. "How about you go home, and sober up a little bit instead?" I knew how calm and collected I sounded, but I could also hear the thudding of my heart.

The guy let out a giggle and turned away. I closed the glass door and held my coat tighter to me. This job sucked in the winter. I let out a sigh, tightly, and tried to relax my trembling hands. I could hold my own in conversation, but I hated guys that flirted. I was beginning to realize how badly out of character the night at Buck's had been, and how badly the consequences were going to play out.

Lying in bed reminded me of the night with Dallas. Driving reminded me of how quickly Soda and I had become close. And anything with alcohol reminded me of my father.

I was boring. But I swore to myself I'd be an independent woman. I'd vote and I'd wear pants every day, and I'd be a strong woman, living on her own and pay rent to Buck as soon as the baby was born. I'd need to make everything baby-friendly. It didn't even occur to me that I wouldn't keep my child. I didn't need a husband to take care of me and the baby: I had myself, and I had friends now. I had Soda, and I had Buck, and I had Mercedes.

Nobody came for the rest of my shift, and I saw a car come while I locked up the ticket booth. But I saw lights flash behind me, and my stomach sank in dread.

Thankfully, it was only Buck. I climbed in and we listened to Hank Williams play for a while, as he drove to god-knows-where. Certainly not home. He was going to the wrong way

He drove for about five minutes, until we stopped at a place that seemed all but abandoned. It was a quiet street, around a park. He turned off the radio and he looked at me. His hair was curly and he had a long face. His eyes were clear, bright.

"Welluh, listen here now," he began awkwardly, his low voice cracking. He cleared his throat. "You are uh, in a deluhcate situation, obviously," he seemed like he was struggling for words.

"I'm pregnant," I said calmly. I had grown to be comfortable around Buck. He threw wild parties, but the doors were sound-proof, and studying was much easier now, since I had all my books and everything I needed in one place.

"An', uh, it's Dally's, uh," he winced.

I felt brave, elated. "It's Dallas Winston's baby," I prompted.

"I just… shit. I needja to be more, uh, careful wich yerself. Yer a nice kid, and uh, I would like to know if ya plan on stickin' around, because, uh," he seemed shy. "I would like to be wich Dal's baby." I understood. Dallas had been his friend, despite everything. He wanted to have a piece of him, too. "And uh, maybe I'll teacha how to ride. Not rough 'r anythin', but just enough to getcha ona horse widdout fallin' off."

I widened my eyes. "Horse riding? I'd fall off!" the idea was ridiculous. I wasn't clumsy like Mercedes, but I wasn't a master of everything like Sodapop, or athletic like his older brother.

He chuckled, low and deep. "That's why I'll teach ya, kiddo." He smiled at me fondly and I felt fantastic. Buck would become the brotherly figure that Derek wasn't. It was nice to know he cared about me, not just about Dally's future child. "But before we get off topic, I wanna, uh, know something. That uh, Curtis kid, Sodapop, iffen he's yer man, then be careful – don't need Dal's kid 'round anythin' bad."

"Soda's not bad!" I protested. Then what he said hit me. "He aint my man either, Buck, don't worry. He's just been a good friend to me."

He looked skeptical. "You don't hafta lie, kid. I seen the way he looks atcha."

"He's not over his ex girlfriend," I explained, more to myself than him. "He's still in love. What'd he want with a girl pregnant with his dead friend's kid?"

I made light of it: I hadn't even thought of that idea. Soda was my friend: I was his. _I was his_…

I tried to ignore how true that was. A memory of his lightening grin flashed through my mind, but I waved it away.

Buck raised an eyebrow. "He aint lookin' atcha like yer his friend there, Marigold." He said crisply. "Uh, you ainta broad. Yera real nice gal, and, uh, not unattractive. Ya think Dally'd sleep witcha iffen ya weren't?"

I hadn't thought about it that way. I assumed I looked the way I looked, plain and average. I wasn't strikingly pretty or unattractive, I was simply Marigold. "I guess," I admitted unwillingly.

"Alls I'm sayin is be careful. Ya gotta think 'bout the well bein' of two of ya now. Aint just bout you, uh, Marigold. 'S 'bout ya and the kiddo."

"Don't worry. I'll be showing soon anyway, so it's likely the only guys speaking to me will be you and Sodapop," I replied wryly, smiling at him.

He swore. "Shit. How didja fuck _Dally_'n be so naïve?"

I was offended. "Dallas was my first kiss, and I'm not naïve."

He sighed, upset. "I'm sorry. Lets getcha back home. I betcha got homework to do or sommfin."

I nodded gratefully. "Thanks, Buck. And thanks for everything. I mean, you've done a lot for me already, and I haven't known you very well very long—"

He shushed me. "Shit, kid," he said with a lopsided grin. "You're doin' just as much fer me as I am fer you. Mebe more."

I was humbled. "What?"

He rolled his eyes. "Did I stutter, kid?"

"No…"

"You're givin' me the gift, of uh, life, kid. Aint nothin' else matters. Cept I wouldn't mind iffen ya named it after me," he was so deadpan I didn't realize he was joking at first. Then I laughed.

"How does Dahlia Winston sound? Dahlia Meryl Winston?" he thought I was joking, but I meant every word.

"Sounds 'bout right. Iffen it's a little man?"

I thought about it. "Patrick Todd Winston," I decided with finality.

He laughed. "Alright, kid. I'll getcha back now."

I smiled out the window as he drove back. The scenery flashed in front of me, and I let myself drift to sleep in the leather seat, thinking about Sodapop Curtis: with his quicksilver smile, his bottomless brown eyes, his laid-back demeanor, and more than anything, the wild zest for life that made him who he was…

When Buck and I stepped into the bar, not only was Tim Shepard there with his boys, drunk as anything, but Sodapop was sitting there, with a 7Up in his hand. "Hey guys!" he grinned, bounding up from his chair. A few other people were there: a girl with white-blonde hair, black eye makeup and a jean jacket smoked by the bar, Steve was mingling with Tim Shepard's gang, and Ash's gang friends were there: Big Red, Jimmy, Case, and the one they called Jackhammer. I wondered what his real name was. I wasn't about to ask, though: he was drunk, and he was enormous.

Soda grinned at me radiantly. "I figured Buck picked ya up when you weren't at work… so I came here with Two-Bit an' Steve, lookit!" he pointed over at the gang. "Big Red and the boys are here again." He shook his head. "I swear, they're all but moved here nowadays. Did you know Ash has a HOUSE in her hometown? From her pa?" he seemed hyper, and I put a hand on his arm to calm him, laughing.

"Settle down there, Sodapop. I think you've had a little too much caffine," I smiled at him, one hand on my slowly ballooning stomach.

"Hey, Case got a job here! Buck's lettin' him bartend here from now on." He exclaimed, babbling on about something. I rolled my eyes at him. "Hey, I figure now you can quit one of your jobs, since you don't need to save money for much!"

I shook my head. "I don't need to quit. I like having jobs. They give me independence."

Soda rolled his eyes. "You work too hard!" he grinned. "I work full time, and that aint nearly as much as your hours."

I looked at him, hard. What way did he look at me that made Buck notice? He was how he always was: laughing, a grin on his face and a glint in his eye. "Why don't you ask him if you can rodeo part time?" I asked him, concentrating on his eyes.

I saw him glance over at Buck, who was tending bar. That's when I saw it. His eyes got brighter when he looked away from me. The color seemed to lighten when he stopped looking at me. I didn't know if it was good or bad.

But before I could analyze anything, the blonde girl strode up, flicking ash from her cigarette at me. "Hey sweetie," she blew smoke in my face, and sidled next to Sodapop. "When're you expecting?" she cooed at me.

I could tell she didn't sincerely know I was actually pregnant. A week ago, I'd have hidden. Hell, a week ago I wouldn't have been here. But just being out of my father's house made me feel liberated: knowing he wasn't my father made it better. So I answered honestly: "I'm three months along."

Her eyes widened for a split second, her nasty remark turned into polite conversation. Sodapop laughed at her, his eyes bright. He honestly thought it was funny. "Hey, Sylvia, how're ya doin'?"

She blew smoke at him. Her teeth were yellowed from cigarettes. "A little lonely since Dally's gone, and Tim and I broke up,"

His smile went blank at the mention of Dally, and he immediately and transparently changed the subject. "Didja dye your hair?"

"Cut it too," she said, narrowing her eyes and curving her spine so her hips stuck out. "D'ya like it?" she purred at him, her low voice seductive.

He stared blankly and brightly as the sun for a second, right into her eyes. "Well, I've always been more of a brunette kinda guy," implying he was interested in me, rather than her.

She looked put out: worse, she looked pissed. She gave me a contemptuous look. "This your little wifey to be?" she sneered.

Two-Bit's voice nearly scared me out of my mind. "Naw, Sylv, this here's liddle MILFy to be. Aint nobody's girl."

She gave me a superior look. Two-Bit slung an arm around my shoulder and leered at her. She snarkily smirked. "Awh, did Daddy leave you?"

I stiffened at the word 'daddy'. Two-Bit felt it. This was the most sober I'd ever seen him. I felt more comfortable with him now than ever before. "No, '_Daddy'_ left you," I said rudely, and left no doubt as to who the father was.

She cracked me across the face and started screaming names at me. The force was enough to turn my head, and then I stared at her. Glory, _that_ was a prime example of a greaser girl. Steve immediately ran up and wrestled her off me, and Buck kicked her out. I didn't have time to react, it happened so quickly.

Two-Bit howled with laughter. "Shit, kid, before the end of the week, everybody's gonna know that you're Dallas Winston's last girl."

I was immediately in the throes of terror. "Shoot, guys!" I wailed, unable to stop the expletive from pouring out of my mouth. "Before the end of the week, his gang of ex-girlfriends is gonna kill me!"


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note:**

**Shock after shock! I dunno if Marigold can handle this. She's kind of a shut in. **

While a surprisingly sober Two-Bit laughed at me, I slumped against a barstool. I watched as Big Red and the one named Jimmy slid out the back door.

Buck shook his head in resignation at that. Two-Bit was mocking me, and at one of his remarks I looked up at him quickly. "Yeah, now that we got another girlie buddy," he joked, completely oblivious to my terror of his drunken antics. "We gotta protect her from them guys out in the back!"

"The back?" I echoed, confused. Big Red and Jimmy?

"Yeah," he grinned down at me, facepalming on the floor with my back against a wobbly barstool. "Man," he shook his head at Steve. "Them guys are scary, the Tigers? And that dealer they got, wasshisname, uh,"

"Spoon? Dig? Something like that," Steve rolled his eyes.

"Dip?" I asked, hardly believing it. My voice, filled with hope, sounded strange. It was unreal, sitting in the cowboy-styled bar room, with my landlord, my new friends, and a jealous ex girlfriend. I had _friends_? Someone was _jealous…_ of _me_? Derek was _alive_? Everything felt odd, as if I were watching it from another point of view, as if I were a bird looking down upon the scene. Everything started to fade out, dark, slowly—

"Marigold," I hadn't even heard Mercedes arrive. She looked at me keenly and nodded. "Here, I gotta talk to Jimmy."

"No you aint!" Two-Bit protested. "Yer lucky I'm letting ya in Buck's bar at all right now! Yer too young, and you shouldn't be fuckin' 'round wid that guy."

She rolled her eyes. "He practically lives with us, Keithy." She snapped at him. "I'm here to see Marigold anyway, and just happened to hear everything and see Sylvia stalk out.

"Well, there, Annabel," he retorted with a smirk, "Haven't cha had enough of his company already? 'Cause it seems you sure do your best to avoid _me_. The only times ya come hang out with me nowadays is when I'm with our buddy here," he slid down next to me and smirked at his sister.

It was eerily how alike their faces were: they had the same evil smirk, the smile that said: I know the punchline to a joke you've never heard, the bright gray eyes that were almost green, then blue. They had the same nose, same wide slash of full lip, and the same hair brushing over their foreheads in a sweep. They both wore grease: but where Mercedes was strikingly feminine, despite her hair, despite her attitude, Two-Bit was overwhelmingly male. They were each other counterparts: they were two peas in a pod.

Mercedes glared at him, hiding her amusement sternly. She was never truly angry at Two-Bit: she just loved arguing. "You're embarassin' to be seen in public with!"

"Aint nobody can see me, I'm invisible!" he decided happily.

"You aint invisible, you're just a fuckin' fairy." She grinned at him. Two-Bit mocked shock and horror and embarrassment.

"A fairy!" he cried in outrage. "If I'm a fairy, yer a dyke," he snorted at her. "Fairy, my ass. I'm a fuckin' super hero."

"Super zero," she jeered, and he grabbed her ankles, leaping on her, knocking her on the floor and almost into Soda, who was howling at the 'fairy' comment. She fell right over and Two-Bit climbed on top of his sister, sitting on her so she couldn't kick him off.

"Still embarrassed, Sissy?" he asked evilly, licking his lips. "How about a kissy for Big Brudder," and he planted slobbery kisses all over her heavily-made up face as she squealed and laughed and kicked at him.

"You're disgusting!" she shrieked, unable to stop laughing as Two-Bit cooed at her like she was a baby.

"C'mon, widdle sissy, how about a big kiss for yer big brother?" he threw back his head and laughed, then leaned forward till they were nose to nose, stuck out his tongue, and blew, shaking his face back and forth.

"AHHHHHHHH!" she shrieked, disgusted. "Get off of me, you fuckin' fruity ass! Whaddya think yer doing!"

Jackhammer and Case came over to watch the entertainment while Sodapop and Steve roared with laughter at the Mathews siblings. While they were distracted, I stood and slipped out to the backdoor silently to watch Char—Big Red, and Jimmy wait, through the window, of course. They were stoic, and fleetingly, Big Red's stance made me think that he was getting ready for battle. A black van drove up and I couldn't help but think: it's a nice car, in horrible condition.

A skinny, lanky boy stepped out of the driver's seat and nervously twitched around. "I'm here for two reasons, man, savvy?" he asked in a strangely powerful voice. He twitched again, and I winced. "One, your alliance, an' two, the shit. No narks, got it?"

Big Red spoke, his voice deep and strong, completely relaxed. "We've got connections from all over. I'm connected with not only several local gangs, but many long distance ones. We're on good terms with the Dukes, the Queenies, Crips, Mickey Cobras, FSU, 40 thieves, and probably about twenty others."

"What about your crew? I heard you're the only one who sells, an' this kid's yer body guard." Dip gesticulated crudely at Jimmy, who stood calmly. He wasn't too tall of a guy, but he was built like a bull.

"There's four of us. Myself, Jimmy right 'ere, Case, and Jackhammer.

"An' who's Case an' Jackhammer?"

Big Red's voice was calm, but dangerous. "Jackhammer Wilson is wanted for murder in three states. He's black, and has been in jail more times than you can count. 'E is dangerous, 'e's strong, and 'e's extremely protective of 'is friends. Case Ryan is from 40 thieves, and 'e's got a college education. 'E's a genius, 'e's quiet, and 'e's got nothing to do wid drugs."

Dip's voice became shadier, lower and more careful. "What about you, Big Red? I hert yer rep, but I aint know real solid shit 'bout neither of yas."

"We live in the next town over." He continued as if Dip hadn't spoken. "We are 'ere often and possibly relocatin'. This 'ere's Jimmy Burton. E's big and 'e's tough. Fuck with 'im, and 'e'll kill ya. My name's Big Red, and ya don't need to know anythin' else about me, 'cept that I'm an asset to yer gang, and that I got yer money right 'ere."

It was so odd to see these men talking like this, and to know one of them was my brother.

Dip was twitching madly. "I've got clearance to deny or assept cha," he said coolly. "My name's Dip Pederson. My papa beat my mama and my liddle sister, so I dipped on outta there. I sold drugs to get a leg up, joined the Tigers, and got addicted, in tha' order." His voice was clear and solid, strong.

"You left your sister behind?" Jimmy's voice was low and coarse, rough like sandpaper and loud.

I stepped from the shadows and opened the door, flooding light from inside to their covert meeting. I didn't stop to think about danger, or anything else. But silent, stoic Jimmy's comment blew my mind topsy turvy. He _left_.

"Yeah, he did." I said stalking outside. "And didn't even say goodbye."

"Marigold?" Big Red hissed furiously. "What in tarnation are you doing?"

"Meeting my brother," I couldn't bring myself to say anything else. Big Red turned to me, his slicked back crimson hair shining.

"This is not where you wanna fuckin' be. This is for big men, aint no room for children 'ere!" he snapped. "Get outta 'ere!"

I blazed right back up at him. "I don't care what kind of illegal stuff you're doing!" I decided spunkily. "I just wanted to see Derek."

"Jesus Christ," Dip lit a cigarette. He wasn't Derek anymore. "Nobody's fuckin' called me that in years." his eyes hardened. "And I don't fucking miss it," he enunciated clearly. "I left for a reason." He twitched, and glared at me.

"What reason is that?" I demanded. "You left, you didn't care about me or mom, or dad who worshipped you."

"He hit us!" he bit out furiously, his anger making his voice a hoarse, animal growl, to the point that it scared me. But I was high on adrenaline

"You left us!" I screamed at him. "Don't act like you're any different from him!"

"I know I'm not!" he got in my face, inches and inches taller than me, and thinner, and paler by far. "That's why I left, don't you get it? Because I'm just like the bastard!"

Years of suppressed rage, oppressed feelings, and depressed family members got the better of me. After bottling everything up, I was ready to explode. I wasn't going to cry to Soda, or complain to Mercedes, or run to anyone like I did Dally. I was going to stand up for myself. I was an American Woman, and I'd be damned if I was going to be bested by a coward. "You're just a little chicken!" I hurled at him, his features so similar to our mother's, it was eerie. "You're a coward, just like her! You're running away just like I did, only you're way _fucking_ better at what you're doing than either of us are! You've degraded yourself on the streets, you've ignored real life!"

"Ignored, hell!" he threw his cigarette down and screamed at me, his voice getting high with rage and indignation. His hair was the same shade as mine, but his eyes were blue, bright and striking. "I've felt more real life than most people ever will! I know how it is on the streets-"

"You know how it is on the _streets_!" I emphasized. "You don't know what it's like to be _left_, to live in a nice house, to go through _school_! You know drugs and women and danger! You don't know how to be happy, how to be strong!"

"And what do you know! This is the bravest you've ever been, Marigold!" he snapped at me. "You're a pussy, a coward, and you're afraid of your own shadow!"

"I ran away with a boy, I came back, I moved out, I work two jobs and I'm going to graduate early from school!" I spat at him, not caring if he looked hurt or happy for me, or felt guilty about anything. "I'm pregnant with Dallas Winston's kid! I'm not the same girl you left behind, Derek!"

"I'm not the same kid who left, either," he answered quietly. It was silent enough to hear my tears. "The shit you see changes you." He handed Big Red an enormous brown bag, and Big Red handed him a wad of money, both of them staring me down. Strangely, I wasn't afraid.

He climbed back into the van and looked at me one last time. "Maybe I'll see you around again, Sis," he said softly. "But for your sake, I hope not."


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note:**

**Hi guys! Sorry I been so late with the updating and whatnot. Read and review! I hope you like it!**

_I was flying. I could see everything in Tulsa: the beautiful homes belonging to the Socs, the dilapidated, broken down North side homes, and the East and West, filled to the brim with everything in between, a melting pot of life and color._

_I started to fall, and my stomach dropped down with me, but before I could hit the ground, Sodapop caught me. His soulful brown eyes reproached me for my carelessness, but his arms held me protectively, suspending me above the ground. But then he left me._

_Dallas stood in front of me, his infectious chuckle making me laugh along with him. But then it started to hurt: and there was blood everywhere, and snakes, bursting from inside me. Snakes slithered from me, and blood trailed them, leaving behind patterns of crimson, until they transformed into Big Red. He stared me down, his eyes following me everywhere. Then there were dozens of him, surrounding me, everywhere I turned or ran._

_I flew past him and there was Soda again, and Dally, then Mercedes._

_Buck._

_Two-Bit. _

_Marcia. _

_Steve. _

_Jimmy. _

_Jackhammer._

_Case. _

_Ash. _

_Derek._

_Derek followed me, calling my name, but this time, I ran away from him. The longer I ran, the harder it was to get away, until the snakes reappeared and hunted me down, consuming me, black and crimson, until—_

"Glory," I hissed to myself, exhaling, and looking around the room. Mercedes was cuddled up next to me, and Soda was on the floor with Two-Bit, sharing a blanket, with Soda's arm tossed over Two-Bit's back, his mouth wide open. I hid a laugh and realized it was only maybe three in the morning. But I was completely, wide awake. I slipped out, pulling on a more decent amount of clothing, and quietly snuck to the bathroom before morning sickness could start.

Before I finished, Mercedes was next to me. "Hey," she smiled, her voice hoarse from sleep.

It was so odd, to see Sodapop Curtis and the Mathews siblings sleeping with me at Buck Merrill's, and have nothing be strange about it. "Hello," I croaked. It was also odd that morning sickness was commonplace. "I'm starving. Do you want to get some food?"

She let out a low laugh. "You mean, you want me to make you some food?"

"I'd love for you to make me food, thanks for offering," I joked weakly, slumping on the floor. "I wonder when I'll stop getting sick."

"How am I supposed to know?" Mercedes shrugged. "Ask Sodapop's ex girlfriend," she grinned rudely.

I was shocked. "Mercedes, that's horrible!" Why would she say something so mean?

She shrugged, and she helped me up. I followed her down the stairs and as she opened the icebox, I looked at her curiously. "Me'n Sodapop were talkin' after you fell asleep," she said casually.

I was immediately suspicious. "What'd you say?"

"I didn't say nothin'!" she protested indignantly, her hands on her hips, almost dropping the carton of eggs she held. "He was talkin' ta me!"

I smiled at her. She was incorrigible, defensive, and grinning shamelessly. "Fine. What'd you two talk about?" I asked curiously.

"Well," she paused dramatically, mischief in her eyes. "For one thing…" she deliberated, "You."

"Me? What'd, you gossip about my baby bump and how Sylvia's going to eat me?" I groaned, but in the middle of the night, the icebox light casting an unflattering greenish light on Mercedes, it was hard to panic.

"Close," she smirked at the mention of Sylvia. "Actually, we talked about Dally too."

I leaned forward, interested.

"Well, us two were sittin' there, and a liddle idle conversation turned to you. Yet somehow it became a wonderful lit'l heart-to-heart, and he mentions that it's crazy that you were with Dally, 'steada anybody else."

"It is strange," I admitted.

"Yeh, ya bet it is. Dallas was the kind of guy who was rough and dominatin' and angry. You're the kind of girl who needs somebody who'll be gentle. Like a wild Mare!" she grinned at her own pun and began to putter about the kitchen.

"What makes you say I couldn't handle a tough guy?" I demanded indignantly. "Is it because I'm a weakling?"

"Two-Bit thinks you'd be good in bed," she smirked. "Cus you're such a shut in, he bets if the right guy gets a'hold of ya, it's wild."

I burned red. "It isn't like Two-Bit would ever find out!" I flushed at the thought. "He's too tough. I could never be with a guy like him."

"You need a guy like Sodapop," she advised me.

I was close to speechless. I worked my mouth around for a minute, trying to come up with words. "Wut?" I choked out.

She shot me an evil grin, reminding me horribly of her brother. "Soda knows how to tame stallions! Apparently he's real good with horses."

"Buck wants to teach me to ride," I said, transparently trying to change the subject.

"Perfect, invite Soda along. Bondin' is good for the soul, Mare."

"Shut up," I mumbled, exasperated. "Whaddya expect to happen?"

"You're going to fall in love and live happily ever after!" she predicted fleefully.

"Where does Dallas Winston's child come into this?" I reminded her.

She paused, deterred. "He was ready to take in Sandy O'Neil's kid!" she remembered. "An' the whole reason Steve an' Ash an' Two-Bit speak to you is because it's Dally's kid. You're their mascot now!"

"Why do _you_ talk to Steve?" I challenged, grinning as she turned red, dumbfounded.

"He and Evie Carmichael are probably getting back together," she bustled about the kitchen and turned away. "Either way, Case is pretty good lookin'. And Tim'n me will be fuckin' again any day now."

"You're so crude, Mercedes," I scolded her. "Soda's been nothing but good to me."

"I bet he'd be even better if ya were sleepin' in the same bed." She leered at me and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Imagine him, shirtless, with them jeans ridin' low."

"If he's so good looking, you date him!" I burst out in embarrassment. But I immediately regretted it.

"Maybe I should. He's a cutie, innit he?" she looked thoughtful as she continued making our impromptu breakfast. "Break 'im in. He aint been with anybody since Sandy left."

"He still loves her."

Mercedes snorted. "Sandy may've looked sweet'n nice, but she's a bigger slut'n me. That's sayin' somethin'."

"You aren't a slut," I said sadly. "Don't say that Mercedes. People do what they have to do."

"But 'bout Soda," she chirped, her voice high with false cheerfulness, ignoring my statement. "He likes you a lot."

I was stunned. "What makes you even _think_ that?"

"You're the first chick he opened up too since Slutty O'Neil got packed off to Florida..." she listed. "He practically ran away with you, and his older brother is apparently a real uptight kinda guy," she nodded empathically and continued. "He's sleepin' in your room as we speak, and he beat up your dad!"

The way she put it, it did seem like a lot. "He's the best person I've ever met," I said sincerely. "He's one of the only people I've ever met who's truly _good_. He _cares_ about people, he's selfless and altruistic. It's so refreshing. He's amazing," I confessed. "I can talk to him, and I've only ever been able to do that with you."

"Only 'cause ya shut erybody out of your life, ya paranoid freak." She accused. "If ya let people in, I bet you'd get over your shyness in a snap. You're not _unlikable_, you're just… socially shut-in."

"Gee, thanks. Glory, Mercedes, you're the only person I've ever met who has such a knack for complimenting people so rudely. I like being a shut in," I lied.

"You practically bust into tears in roll-call during school,"

"I'm not gonna deny that," I admitted, unable to stop a self-conscious smile.

"And Sodapop is loved by every person who crosses his path!" she finished triumphantly. "You're perfect for each other."

"You're an idiot."

"You're gonna get him'n Buck-o to teach ya to ride a horse!"

"I'm pregnant! If I fall off, I could lose the baby."

"Soda'd catch you," her smirk was irresistible, and for the second time, a seed of thought was planted: Soda… and I?


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's Note:**

**So you should've noticed by now I've been dropping hints about Mercedes. We will get to that… eventually! Thanks to beba78 and the lurkers who luuub my stories, here's another chapter!**

"I can't believe I took off work for this," I hissed grumpily. "I'm freezing, it's probably going to rain, and I'm so sore."

"Quit whinin'!" Soda grinned at me from the earth. I glared down at him. I felt a million miles above him on the horse, who Soda had decided to name Barnacle. Buck said he hadn't bothered to name this one, since he wasn't a racer. He was a possible stud, and he was beautiful. "You know this is fun!"

I fought a grin as Soda laughed at me. But then, trying to make myself more comfortable, I hit an old bruise and winced instead. "Super fun," I mumbled sarcastically, feeling out of character. It was as if I could see everything happen from far away: a girl swaying awkwardly on a horse, and gorgeous Sodapop laughing up at her, his smile bright in the distance and his charm obvious for miles. But I snapped to attention when the horse moved restlessly.

I inhaled, and Soda's face changed to concerned in a heartbeat. "You okay?" he asked kindly. "Do you need help getting off? We can take a quick break. Buck'll be back with lunch any second now."

"This is just the way I wanted to spend my Saturday," I joked. "Way up here. My legs are so sore I don't think I can close them."

In my head, I could hear Steve's answering comeback: _Neither can Mercedes_. Being around Soda so often meant seeing Steve too, and I was getting used to everyone. Except for Darry Curtis. That man was huge, terrifying, and stern.

Two-Bit, who I knew well, had the same wild humor as Mercedes, only she made sense more often. He was just insane. Steve was rude, snappy, and sometimes clever. Soda was sweet and charming, Ponyboy Curtis was dryly funny, Buck didn't have a sense of humor, and Tim Shepard was colorful. I was getting to know all of these people, in the end, because of Dally.

At first, it had been horror. I saw it as messing up my life. But slowly, as consequences were playing out, I saw it wasn't. For the first time in my life, I had friends. I was away from my father. I was learning to ride a horse. And in the week since Mercedes and I had a heart-to-heart in the kitchen, I'd gone to school, studied hard, and through persistence, researched all I could find about women in history. I had a new passion: equality. I'd even had a conversation with Jackhammer about it. He'd told me about hate crimes that had wrecked his family, how he spent every other month in jail because he was blamed for everything. He was public enemy number one to the white police officers.

Soda interrupted my pensive thoughts by climbing up behind me and somehow getting Barnacle to walk and move and run about, obediently and happily.

I felt his warmth against my back and leaned into him, the old, fading bruises irritated, and new ones coming from my thighs where I'd gripped on Barnacle in terror. "You okay?" he asked, leaning forward until his breath tickled my ear.

I was freezing, miserable, and my bruises were killing me. But I turned my face to meet his and smiled brightly. "I'm great," I lied. It didn't matter how awful I felt. Soda wanted me to be happy, so for him I would be. The sky was gray, and I figured it'd begin to rain soon so we could go inside.

I wasn't working at the daycare, or the Nightly Double. I was planning on putting in my two weeks at the ND. I didn't need to save anymore. I was going to graduate at the end of this year and apply at Tulsa University. They'd already offered me a full scholarship. I only had to pay for room and board, and if Buck let me remain with him, I didn't need to worry about paying for school. But what I was worried about was getting sick every morning. I was losing weight, despite being pregnant.

I was also worried about the dirty looks I'd been getting, just walking around school. Alone, it was the worst. Girls like Evie, and Kathy, who dated Two-Bit, or Cherry Valance and her cheerleaders were shaming me, publicly. Boys took every excuse they could to mock me, to embarrass me. Ash and Mercedes got suspended on two separate occasions for fighting people who'd insulted me.

Word spread fast in Tulsa.

It had bothered Sodapop something awful, when Mercedes and I had stopped at the DX for Cokes. "Why don't you get mad?" he'd asked plaintively. I didn't have an answer. I guess because it wasn't worth it or something. I didn't really know how I felt about it. It seemed too fast.

"I wonder if Mercedes was upset that she didn't find out until everyone else did," I said outloud. By everyone, I meant, everyone who mattered. The Curtis gang, Tim, and Buck.

"There's probably shit she don't tell you," Sodapop reasoned, tightening his grip around me as Barnacle tripped a little. My heart flew to my throat and I jumped back, eve closer to Soda.

"Get me off!" I shrieked, my adrenaline racing, my heart roaring, my head pounding. "We're going to get ourselves killed!"

"I'll protect you," Soda threw his head back and laughed. I clutched his knees, next to mine. I would've held onto Barnacle, but I didn't trust that animal after nearly knocking us off.

It was actually beautiful, the scenery rushing by us and all. It was a barren landscape, to be sure, but everything seemed more vivid when I was with Soda, as if a layer was peeled away. Colors were brighter with him around.

Finally, when I thought I'd have a terror attack, Soda stopped Barnacle and gracefully slid off the back, pulling me down with him. My knees felt shaky. I was trembling all over, and Soda held me while I shook. "Glory, Sodapop," I tried to breathe evenly and sound collected, but I could barely suck in a breath.

He maneuvered around so that he was facing me. I was bright red: I couldn't even sit on a horse without freaking out. It was embarrassing. My whole body was shaking. "Hey," he looked at me seriously. "I'll never let you fall, got it?" he waited until I could stand straight and pulled me into a quick, tight hug. Releasing me, he finished: "I'll take care of ya, Goldie." He soothed me.

"That was actually pretty tuff," I admitted. "Now that I'm safely on the ground."

"Retrospect?" he grinned at his own vocabulary.

"Yup. Now that I'm not crazed out of my mind with terror, I can see how fun that was."

"That's how life always is!" he grinned happily. Then he pointed at the tiny speck of Buck coming up with his car and some food, and we eagerly waited until he pulled up.

"I can't believe you own all this land," I said, gesturing around. "Barnacle could run for miles and never reach the end of your property."

"I, uh, inherited it all. My family's been rich for, uh, ages." He grunted and Soda dove for the basket of food in the backseat.

"7UP, peanut butter and jelly, and hardboiled eggs." Soda grabbed the soft drink and a sandwich and shoved them in my lap, grabbing one for himself.

"Where's the rest of your family?" I asked Buck, biting into the sandwich. Strawberry jelly, and crunchy peanut butter on Wonder bread. I'd never had any of these three things.

"My, uh, little sister's in some fancy boarding school. My parents are, uh, dead. My grandpa lives out here, on the, uh, land." Buck ate only eggs. He didn't even drink the soda.

"Grub's good, Buck," Soda downed all his food and went back for more. I swear, that kid ate like a horse.

"How was the ride?" Buck asked.

Soda grinned and I rolled my eyes. "It was—" he began, but I cut him off.

"Soda's a lunatic," I informed Buck dryly.

"You're a chicken!" he shot back laughingly.

"I think we've already established that," I replied wryly. "Common knowledge, by now."

"Oh shut up," he nudged me and grabbed my soda. "Look, twins!" he guzzled it and threw the empty bottle into the air. Buck watched him with an odd expression on his face.

"You're so strange," I stifled a smile and looked at him sternly.

"So how do you feel about Dally's baby," Buck stated quietly, interrupting Soda's goofy show.

"I think it's great!" Soda said stoutly. "She's tough."

"I never even considered anything except raising this baby. It's my child." I was pensive. "How long are you willing to let me stay, Buck?" I had already told him about school.

"Uh… as long as you want?" he furrowed his brow. "Forever, I guess."

The drizzle started. "Here, you, uh, kids take the car back, I'll take Barnacle."

Soda eagerly jumped in Buck's expensive car and looked nearly catatonic with joy. He sped back to Buck's house with such awful speed, I blocked it from memory. He was going to kill someone. He was laughing gleefully by the time I was able to bolt out of the seat. "Glory, Soda Curtis!" I couldn't fight the laugh that bubble inside me. "You sure make me happy to be alive after surviving that!"

"Being happy to be alive is the key to being happy!" he decided smirking. He parked the car inside Buck's garage and we ran inside to the bar. Buck's business end was officially closed, so we were the only ones there. I immediately curled up in the public rec-room, on the comfortably worn couch. It smelled strongly of marijuana and cigarettes.

Soda jumped down next to me, his hair a little wet. It flopped down in front of his face and he laughed at my disgusted expression. I shivered a little. "It isn't supposed to rain in the winter. Where's the snow?" I asked plaintively.

He laughed and wrapped an arm around me, his warmth seeping into my back. I curled more closely to him, snuggling to him as if he were a heater.

He put his free hand on my stomach and hypnotized by the massaging motion, I leaned against him. His hand slid up to my forearm and I fought a shiver as he squeezed the sore muscle. "How ya feelin'?" he asked kindly, his voice low.

"Tired," I yawned, peering up at his dark eyes and wet hair. I was struck anew by how handsome he was. In all honestly, he was close to perfect. From the eyelashes that cast delicate shadows across his cheekbones, his lips full and the laugh lines around his eyes and smile lines about his lips, he was perfection incarnate.

I relaxed against him, as completely as was possible for me, and he slowly let his lips drift to my forehead, and planted a feather-like kiss on my hairline.

I sighed a little, and he trailed more light kisses along the edge of my hairline, until he reached my jaw. His lips lingered against my skin, and he slid his lips across my cheek, closer and closer to my lips.

I had butterflies in my stomach, and they flew to my eyes in the form of tears, which I struggled to hold back. Soda wasn't just beautiful: he was an angel. And he was my friend. He cared. Nobody had done that since Mercedes befriended me. I closed my eyes and rested against Soda until I fell asleep, dreaming of 'pop bottles and lightening smiles and the laughter of children.


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's Note:**

**Oh, short chapter, hi. **

**I love everyone. I keep getting favorite and subscribed too… but nobody reviews! Should I be happy because OBVIOUSLY MY STORY IS PEFRECT? Or should I be worried that nobody actually cares? xD**

**We're coming to the end of the story… few chapters left!**

I woke up the next morning in my bed, with Soda sprawled on the floor. I wasn't surprised. He was with me more often than Mercedes lately. I climbed out of bed and discreetly pulled on more appropriate clothes. When I made it downstairs however, it was a mess.

"Glory," I wondered to myself. "How did I sleep through a party like this?" feeling queasy, I ran to the sink and threw up. When I finished, my stomach was completely empty and I was starving. I checked the fridge, and there weren't any of Mercedes meals left. "Dang," I sighed to myself. The kitchen was private, so at least it was clean. I made myself a bowl of cereal and crunched it slowly, still feeling a little sick.

When I finished, I did the dishes and grabbed some cleaning supplies that I'd bought. I decided I'd clean everything before getting to my studies. Or at least work. I sighed, wondering if I'd get any studying done at all today.

I grabbed a broom and swept cobwebs off the ceiling. Then after throwing away all the trash, I wiped down every surface, destroying three rags with dirt and grime. After that, I swept everything. By the time I finished, two hours later, Soda was awake. He yawned: he had off today and could sleep as late as he pleased. He sat at a barstool and grinned at me, twirling around. "Let's go somewhere!"

"I have to take a shower and go to work, Soda. I've been cleaning all morning," I explained. He looked disappointed. "I'm so sore right now, though," I groaned.

He looked at me narrowly. "How're ya bruises?" he asked quietly, not wanting to overstep any boundaries our friendship might have.

"They're fading. I heal pretty fast. But yesterday's riding session didn't exactly make me feel fantastic…"

A knock on the door quieted Soda's response. Puzzled, he followed me to open the door. I opened it slightly and saw it was Dip.

"Derek?" I asked curiously. "Me and Soda are the only ones here. If you're here for Big Red—"

"I'm here for ya," he interrupted me, twitching. "Can ya lemme in? C'mon now, fast, iunno if anybud followed me here."

I let him in and Soda stood next to me protectively. "Derek, this is Sodapop. Soda, this is my brother Derek."

It had only been a week since I'd met him again. He seemed, if possible, even thinner and twitchier. "Hey, Soderpop."

Sodapop nodded friendly enough, but hesitant. "I'll let you guys talk for a minute." He left the room, Dip and I standing awkwardly.

"A while ago, I decided ta go inta town." He said quickly, looking over his shoulder. "I past by yer house, an' when I saw Pa pullin' in, I snapped on 'im, an' ended up trashin' the place. He din't recognize me, but he started diggin' 'round, an' he knows yer pregnant… and that yer here."

I remembered the trash I'd seen, the messy hell, and the crime-scene-esque décor that littered the room when Soda and I had gone. I nodded, and then his words sunk in. "What?" I cried fearfully. "What's he going to do?"

"Iunno, but I figgered I should tell ya. Hey, I should prolly get on outta here, this aint Tiger turf."

"Gangs aren't allowed in this bar," I said, repeating Buck's mantra. "Only people."

He shrugged nervously, his left eye twitching. He had a white residue on his face, and his elbow looked hugely infected, probably from needles. I felt sad: he wasn't my brother any longer. He was just someone who was messed up, lonely, and in too deep with stuff that was way too intense. I realized belatedly that he was only a few years older than I: he seemed ancient to me, as if he had lived a thousand years instead of nineteen.

Looking at him, and how much he changed, how much effort it took for him to even tell me about our fathe—_Richard's_ rage. He was used to every man for himself, just like I was. But unlike me, he'd never get the chance to grow and change and realize that caring for people was a good thing. Just like Dallas Winston never would, and could never understand anyway.

Derek… _Dip…_ was my brother, one hundred percent. We felt things the same way, we reacted to things the same way… or we had. I wondered, vaguely, what would've happened if I'd run away and he'd had to stay?

Would he be responsible, working his way through college? Would I be a prostitute on the streets?

Only problem is I wasn't as responsible as I'd thought. Knocked up, beat up, and without a father for myself, or for my child. And maybe _he_ wasn't as irresponsible as I thought. Maybe I was just sheltered by my own oblivion.

Impulsively, I leaned forward and hugged him. "Dip," I told him, not caring that he smelled stale, not caring that he had dirt on his nails or a huge infection in the crook of his arm. I wrapped my arms around his waist and squeezed tight. "You'll always be my brother."

I couldn't think of anything else to say that could express how I felt. For a while after he left, I was filled with anger. Then sadness. Then indifference. And now, seeing him again, I realized that just because people change, and circumstances change, doesn't mean that feelings ever do.

He relaxed against me for a split second, and was gone.

I'd been becoming more and more impulsive lately. I'd had sex, ridden a horse, run away, and hugged my drug-addict brother during a serious conversation. Soon I'd be skydiving and travelling the globe… baby in tow.

I drooped down against the door as Dip left and Soda loped back into the room. He gave me a knowing grin and plopped down next to me. "What's wrong?" he asked, slinging an arm around me.

I sighed. "Soda, I'm old!" I wailed, unable to suppress a smile at my own patheticness.

He laughed. "You're younger than me!"

"I'm gonna have a baby, Soda… Glory, I feel like I'm forty, at least."

I couldn't resist from looking at his lips as they curved into a smile, as fast as lightening, his white teeth bright against his firm mouth. "Mercedes was tellin' me 'bout how the rumors been goin' around," he told me, playing with my hair idly. "An' how rumor is, I'm the father."

I blew a sigh. "People'll say what they're gonna say, don't let it bother you too much, there, Sode." I told him watching his expression.

His face contorted into an expression I didn't quite recognize. "An' then," he continued, his voice husky, his eyes mesmerizing me. "I realized… I wouldn't mind that much." He admitted.

I caught my breath, my heart suddenly thudding. I was aware of Soda's broad shoulders, his warm, strong body against mine, the look in his eyes hat made my stomach flutter. He dipped his head down, and slowly inched his way closer, closer, closer… until I jumped up. "Soda, I gotta get in the shower and go to work!" I remembered, my blood pulsing, my head featherlight. I ran up stairs, fast as I could, as if a beast were at my tail, and I could only think one thing:

I'd kissed Dally, and now I was having his child, and he was dead. I had to protect Soda from me. Because he fell for Sandy, too much, too fast, and too hard, and now where was he at? Both of us fell, let ourselves become swept away.

We were too convenient to fall in love, fairy-tale style. And I couldn't bring myself to let him ruin his future with me.


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's Note:**

**Nothing to see here, move on to the story…**

The children squealed happily. "Miss Marigold!" they shrieked, running to me, their hands sticky and their mouths smeared with peanut butter. "Miss Annie says we're gonna fingerpaint!"

"Fingerpaint?" I feigned surprise. "Are you sure she didn't say nap?"

"That doesn't even rhyme!" they cried, delighted at correcting a grown-up. "She said she buyed new finger paint colors!"

"Did she get green and blue and red?" I asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow as they dragged me to the tiny easels filled with white construction paper.

"And purple!" little Lisa squealed, her red curls tumbling in a mess. "Purple's my favorite, Miss Marigold!"

"I know!" I smiled. "I like purple too!" I went to the supply closet and nodded at Annie.

"Hey, Marigold," she said, tapping her finger against her chin and eyeing me. She was only about twenty. "I heard you're… I heard from my little sister…"

I cringed. "Yeah. Whatever you've heard, it's probably true."

"Darrel Curtis' brother is the father?" she asked wide-eyed. "Marigold, that family is filled with hunks!"

I choked. "No, _he_ isn't the father! He's my _friend_!"

I grabbed the bottles of paint and looked at her. "It's the Winston boy that died," I answered quietly. Annie wasn't judging me.

But could I keep my job at a _daycare_ as a pregnant teenager?

Sighing to myself, I set up the painting station and put aprons over the children's shirts. Annie stayed in the storage closet for a good twenty minutes after that. I sat at the desk and watched them.

Children had so much joy. They were like little tiny Sodapops. Mini bottles of Pepsi-Cola. Watching them find the littlest things thrilling was fascinating, and shaming. They were bright and innocent, every one of them. Likely they wouldn't be in a few more years.

Little Mary-Alice came up to me shyly. "I mayd ya a pitcha, Miz Margeld," she smiled at me, lisping slightly, and her pronunciation the typical greaser-to-be slur. She was adorable, with platinum blonde hair and big brown eyes, and a splash of freckles across her bitty nose.

"Thank you, Mary-Alice," I smiled at her and took the brightly colored pink heart.

"I misked tha calors ta make penk liek Miz Annye tat us," she smiled.

I kissed the paper, getting pink paint all of my lips. "I wuv it," I mumbled, making a kissy face. "An' I wuv my new lipstick."

She squealed delightedly. "That aint whatchua 'spulse ta do ta a pitcha, Miz!"

I looked at her tiny hands and realized how small she was. She was just a little girl, not even old enough for kindergarten. I wondered what my child would look like. Brown hair and eyes? Broad and tall, short and small?

Boy or girl? Greaser… or person?

I wanted to raise my child to think for itself. Himself. Herself. Would I be a good parent? Would my child long for a father?

I needed to plan ahead for this. Buck would let me stay with him: but did I want my child in that environment? I couldn't ask him to change. It was his business and his home. And school. Did I want to go to college? Could I, with a child?

Just when things seemed settled, I realized nothing was at all.

"Glory," I whispered to myself. "I sure wish you were here to make it all better, Dally."

He'd had a gift of making problems seem inconsequential, compared to the thrill of the moment, the thrill of _every_ moment. His laugh, his constant scent of cigarettes, his know-it-all manner, everything about him was for the moment. He ignored the past and didn't worry about the future. His swagger, his disdain for everything, and the way he was my total opposite. I didn't love him, and I hadn't even liked him all that much, but Dallas was someone you respected.

He was someone who could make things feel _right_. He had been disrespectful, dishonorable, stubborn, a pigheaded sexist, angry, sarcastic, rude, incorrigible, ill-mannered, ill-tempered, full of bad habits… and he'd given me my first kiss, as well as my unborn child.

I couldn't even _begin_ to imagine what my life would be like right now if Dallas Winston were alive.

But I had Soda now.

The door clanged as someone came to pick up their kid. I looked up and saw _Steve_?

"What're you doing here?" I asked curiously. He put out his cigarette and threw it out. He was expressionless.

"Gotta pick up the cousins."

"You look thrilled," I smiled gently. "Which one's your cousin?"

He smoothed his greasy hair, touching up strands that had been freed. "Uh, Fina and Jessie."

The two girls, as if summoned, came squealing over. The twins were adorable, with cherub cheeks and gap-toothed grins. They even looked like him, with dark hair and big eyes. "Steve!" they squealed together, tugging on his legs. He looked pained.

I couldn't hide my delight at his discomfort. "Aw, Steve, these are your cousins?"

"Them and Simone." He grunted it, as if embarrassed. I was surprised. Simone was one of Sylvia's friends, trashy greaser through and through. She'd gotten pregnant in her freshman year, dropped out, gave the child away and never mentioned it. She hung around Tim Shepard's gang, the Tigers, and even some of the River Kings. She was hard, the scariest, meanest girl I'd ever met.

"How are these two Simone's sisters?" I asked, shocked.

He rolled his eyes. "Simone was kicked out 'fore she even got knocked up. Her pa an' my pa got plenty in common. He got remarried, an' wifey popped out these tarts." He spoke roughly, but I watched him closely and detected genuine affection hidden in his eyes when he pushed them off his legs.

"Ready to go, kids?" he asked gruffly.

"Where're you goin'?" I asked Steve carefully. I was still kind of afraid of him. But he seemed more relaxed away from Mercedes. In fact, most times I saw Steve, I was with Mercedes, or something about her had pissed him off.

His face was hard. "I'm takin' 'em on over to Soda's. Their pa's dead drunk an' little mama's god-knows-where. An' I aint gonna trust my father. Ash'll be overjoyed to see ya munchkins." They mimicked him, chanting his name over and over with joy.

He sighed, long-sufferingly and picked up a girl in each arm. "C'mon, kiddos." He said dully. They beat at him with joy and excitement. "Bye Marigold!" they squeaked happily.

"Come on over after you're done work." He called back at me.

I nodded at him. "I have a few hours after my shift ends until I go to the theatre."

He strode out, casually carrying the girls, mostly ignoring them. They worshipped him. I wondered what Steve was like under the façade he put on.

I wondered how anyone saw past any pretense.

I guessed Soda was good at that.


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's Note:**

**Plotlines plotlines plotlines… Okay guys, time for my first REAL legit author's note lol. Marigold is involved in these gangs, despite her caution and terror and pretty much antisocialness, because… I'm the author! This story is ending soon. Very soon. So any unanswered questions… Well, this is a series, isn't it? I'm not going to tie off every single loose end. A good cliffhanger is a good… everything. In my opinion, at least.**

"WELL FUCK YOU TOO!" I heard Mercedes shriek furiously. "Yura fuckin' BASTARD, Steve Randle," I mouthed the words in sync to Mercedes shouts. Stopping at the door of the Curtis house, I winced internally.

Stepping away from the door, I could hear Mercedes stomping towards the door. I saw the surprise on Soda's face, the fleeting guilt on Steve's face, and the anger on Darry and Ash's face. Ponyboy and Two-Bit looked horrified, and the Fina stirred from the nap she was taking with her sister, curious and sleepy.

I followed her rage-filled pacing and I panicked, wondering what Steve had said, and how true it was. I waited for her to speak.

She turned to me, no tears in her eyes. Anyone else would've thought she was only pissed, but I knew how upset she was. The way she chewed her tongue and poked at her eyeliner covered eyes. "Fuckin' Evie Carmichael told Steve 'bout shit neither of them are 'pose to know." She sniffed, trying to disguise it as a snort. My mind flashed over the things she didn't need people to know, and so I wildly guessed, keeping my voice low:

"Did she find out about you?" I whispered solemnly.

"Yeah, and she's fuckin' spreadin' it 'round like it's somma her business!" Mercedes exploded. She dug a cigarette out of the pocket of her jean jacket and adjusted her cleavage. She put the cigarette between her red lips and lit up, shivering. "It's fuckin' freezin'." She commented, trying to retain her composure. Feelings were a gray area. Avoid it at all costs.

"I'm sorry," I answered quietly. I was always at a loss for words when Mercedes revealed things like this to me. The fact that she was hurting was obvious to me: actually talking about it confused me. I wanted to comfort her, but I had no experience in making her feel better. It was now where I realized that we weren't as close as most girlfriends are. "He just doesn't understand, Mercedes."

"He called me Annabel, so I told'm to go get laid, an' relax a bit. He said he figgered I would know about getting' laid, bein' the slut I am." She looked genuinely hurt. "He'n Evie are back together. Ash said Evie tried somethin' diff'rnt an' now their spice is back." She spat on the ground and dropped her cigarette. "Fuckin' bitch. I'll kill'er."

"He can't call you… that word… I'm the one who's pregnant."

"It's Dally Winston's kid, so it don't count. Fuckin Steve. Simone and Sylvia are fuckin' trashy bitches, he don't bitch at them."

"I don't know why he likes to antagonize you, but you do the same for him." I answered thoughtfully.

She shrugged. "Well, me'n Tim are on a break, so I'm fuckin' Jackhammer."

It took me a second to place the name. "Really?" I whispered, my eyes bulging, and my mind boggling. "Mercedes, you're gonna be an outcast! You're friends with the pregnant girl! Sylvia's gonna have it out for me, and you too, since we're friends. You can't date a _negro_, the Soc's will kill you! You know they're the ones who will care! And if not, one of his girls will kill you!"

She grinned confidently. "Marcia will see that it doesn't happen."

"My Marcia? The cheerleader?" I asked, bewildered.

"Yeap," she smirked evilly. "I decided to befriend her, in case she'd be useful. She wants Two-Bit, fer some batshit crazy reason, an' I need an ally. 'Sides, segregation is the new front peer!"

"Integration is the new frontier," I corrected her distractedly. "Mercedes, I didn't wanna talk about this, but I've met Derek! Because of Big Red… and he's awful, he really is."

She immediately focused. "What happened?"

"He's in trouble with the gangs or something horrible, and he has horrible scars and he looks diseased. He's the epitome of a greaser, a gang runner. It's so sad."

She looked at me strangely. "How do you fee—"

Soda came jogging up, interrupting Mercedes. What had she been going to say? Feel? "Mercedes, here, Steve's your mechanic. From now on."

She switched modes, like a switch. Her face became relaxed and animated, she didn't have a care in the world. "Sounds tuff!" she declared.

I sighed heavily. Obviously, nobody was coming to pick me up from work. After killing a few hours with Mercedes, who gloated about 'coercing' Steve into being her mechanic, complained about Tim Shepard, and gushed about Jackhammer, I'd gone to work, an unusually slow night.

Walking home to Buck's was maybe three miles. It'd be close to midnight before I'd even get home, and then I'd be up for hours to study for a chemistry test, trying to ignore Hank Williams blasting and the drunken shrieks of his customers.

I set off on my way, keeping a steady pace to keep out the chill. I sighed, and watched my chilly white breath float about airily.

I heard footsteps behind me, and whispers. I looked ahead at oncoming traffic. Who would be out at this hour, in this weather? Most people'd be at a party. I wondered fleetingly if they were drunk.

The thought was enough to make me quicken my pace. Nervously, I listened for the footsteps behind me, and noticed they'd also quickened. But drunks didn't run. So I was safe. So I shouldn't be running. So they shouldn't be chasing me?

Oh glory, they _were_ chasing me. What would Mercedes do? Play it cool, deny anything and everything, and flirt. I could hold my own in banter, but flirting was too far. What would Soda do? Fight, no good. Ash? Probably the same.

Frantically, I searched my mind for another comparison. Marcia? Run. Sounded like a plan to me.

I never really knew what people meant when they talked about seeing things in slow motion, but now I did. I could see myself, birds-eye-view, and felt shaky and weak, as if I hadn't eaten in two days.

I felt a huge ham hand wrap around my wrist and an arm wrap around my waist. "Scream, and my buddy here'll pull a blade." An articulate voice warned quietly, warm breath hissing into my ear. Terror took over me until I was close to catatonic. "A certain Dip has been seeing you, hasn't he?" I couldn't even squeak.

The arm pulled me tighter. "There's a lot of things I could do to you to make you talk, _Marigold_," the voice emphasized my name. How did he know my name? I could barely breathe, but I wanted to cry. I trembled and shut my eyes tight. "You're the bitch that got knocked up by Winston, aren't you? There's a lot of reasons we could pick on you, you cunt. Next time Dip comes to see you, tell him the rest of the Kings are looking for him. He owes, and needs to pay up. Or I'll kill you and the little brat inside of you." The arm pulled me completely against him, pressing hard against my stomach. He was warm, despite the winter air.

Another voice spoke, less articulate. "Hold up, this broad knows Big Red. Be careful. 'e's got a lotta fuckin' friends, man. She runs wit Mercedes Mathews."

The voice in my ear snorted. "Big Red, big deal. Fucking dealer doesn't have a gang, he's got two friends and a bodyguard. As for Mercedes Mathews, she won't do shit. Wolfwood's got shit on her, that nobody needs to know." He turned his attention back to me. "Tell him."

The pressure on me was released, and I waited, shaking like a leaf, for their footsteps to subside. I fell to my knees and vomited, ashamed at my utter fear.

I lost control and sobbed, curling myself into a ball, trying to keep quiet. The only coherent thought I had was: _Soda_.


	28. Chapter 28

**Author's Note:**

**Hehehehe. Poor Marigold. She had to get herself together and go home.**

**You can't always be rescued by a knight in shining armor, even if it is Sodapop Curtis33**

**Beba78, SOMEWHAT. For the next fic, there will be multiple POVs involved. I'm going to try something new with it. **

**Read and review guys!:D**

The paper flew on my desk, covered with my scribbles. "Not up to your usual par, Mz. Pederson," Mr. Tucker raised his eyebrows at me pretentiously. I looked at the paper, yawning. He always managed to grade the papers within seconds of passing them in. The man was a machine.

84% was printed on the front in enormous, flowery calligraphy. I sighed, suppressing the immediate panic that came with anything below a B. I needed to study more. Study more and more and more until I was perfect.

The bell rang and I trudged out, ignoring the pointed glares, avoiding Socs, and in general just living in a bubble.

I'd nearly made it to my next class, journalism, when all my books and papers, so neatly organized, fell from my knapsack in a heap on the floor. I heard malicious laughter behind me, and burning red with embarrassment, turned to gather my things.

A thin boy, about a year younger than me grinned evilly. He had golden eyes and hair, almost like a lion. Beyond upset, I was resigned. He had a triumphant gleam in his eyes, as if he had just accomplished something wonderful.

"Slut," he hissed rudely. Then, loudly. "I guess the baby in your stomach is making you lose your balance!"

I shook a little. I didn't know this kid's name, but he was awfully brazen. "It takes two to make a baby!" I snapped at him. "I'd like to see you being a teen parent, you irresponsible greaser!"

He looked offended, and a tall, stocky boy standing next to him roared. "She called you a greaser, Mark!"

He looked angry. "I'm not the trashy one, you're the teen mom."

"Ye'll never be any type of parent if ya keep treatin' wimmin this bad, dig?" Ash raced up the hallway and got in his face. "Who the fuck ever toldja it were proper to disrespect any kind of broad like that? It aint tuff to be rude. Wouldya treat yer mama like that iffen she were toastin' a bun?" she demanded indignantly.

He was silent at that. I was fired up by Ash defending me, and I continued. "It isn't just me, either! I don't think one person at this school has asked me who the father is. It's because I'm a girl, so it's entirely my fault!"

He seemed speechless. I figured Ash had that effect on people a lot. I looked at her admiringly: she was tiny. She wasn't even five feet tall, and probably barely ninety pounds. Her hair was a wild halo, and her eyes were bright blazing gray, standing out against her pinkish skin. She was pretty, but more than that, she was feisty.

"Come on, say something Mark! Don't be a candy-ass!" urged Terry, some gossipy freshman that I didn't like.

I started packing my fallen books back into my knapsack, and I ignored the booing directed at Mark's inability to respond. I felt a hand graze mine, and smiled at Marcia.

"Pregnant?" she mouthed in disbelief, and I nodded. She handed me my books, and stood up next to her friend, the cheerleader, Cherry. She whispered something to Cherry, and they both smiled at me. It was a little odd, like being a charity case.

"We'll make sure they won't be talkin' bad about you no more," Cherry said assuredly. "At least, Socs. I can't speak for anyone else."

I shrugged. "I guess it doesn't really matter what any of these people think."

She opened her mouth to respond, a strange look in her eye at my words. But before she could speak, a teacher came and shooed the crowd away, oblivious to the people mocking me.

Ash raised her eyebrows at Cherry. "Ya sure gotta lotta confidence fera liddle girl. What makes ya think ye can stop 'em?"

She smiled a little sadly. "Being a cheerleader, and Bob's girlfriend gives you a lot of influence." She mentioned the boy who died in the incident the same week as Dally, and I winced inwardly.

Ash didn't hesitate to barrel forward. "Be'it as'it may, yaknow people'r gonna talk 'bout her, ya dig? It's real tuffa ya to offer'n try, but iunno how much fuckin' good it's gonna do."

Marcia giggled. "We'll just get a bunch of girls to talk about how much we like you, Marigold, and how disrespectful it is to talk about pregnancy. We aren't _all_ bad."

"Randy somethin', that's a good Socy kid," Ash nodded approvingly. "Nice guy right there, man. Whatta ace."

Marcia nodded. "He's a nice fellow. But—"

"To class, ladies!" a teacher yelled. "Or I'll have to write you up for cutting class!"

Cherry and Marcia immediately departed, waving. I wondered what Marcia had been going to say as I walked into the Journalism room. Two-Bit was there, fast asleep. I sat next to him and began studying. The journalism course was a joke: just a study hall for kids who needed an academic credit. People glared at me, but of course, Two-Bit was in the back of the room.

I was glad he was asleep: I still was beyond intimidated of the drunken ladies man. But he was a good protector in the room filled with malicious girls. Big, tall, roguish greaser meant girls avoided even _looking_ at me.

Maneuvering through school like a military general, with my tactics planned out and my men at their stations, I managed to get to lunch without an incident.

Ponyboy was waiting at my locker when the bell rang, and I was exhausted. I smiled at him tiredly, and he gave me a shy smile in return, but his face seemed a little flushed. "You okay?" I asked, pushing my books neatly into my locker, making sure it was organized. I closed it and twirled the lock, and stood, meeting the boy eye-to-eye.

His blonde hair was almost gone. He had cut it shorter so it was mostly dark reddish with blonde at the ends. It was actually kind of tuff.

"Yeah," his ears turned red and as he lied, I noticed. His soft voice was nice to listen to. I wish the kid talked more. "Just thinkin'."

"Penny for your thoughts?" I asked him kindly. He really was a nice kid. Kind of dreamy. He shook his head tightly.

"They're worth a bit more'n that," he retorted.

I hid a grin.

"C'mon, Ponykid!" Steve hollered from down the hall. "I aint waitin' for you two for much longer!"

I hurried towards Steve. Going with Steve meant going to Soda.

"I heart about that Mark kid goin' on ya," Mercedes commented at the Dx, gnawing on a chocolate bar. "He thinks he's real tuff, real bastard. Thinks charm'll geddem outta everythin'."

"It does though, doesn't it?" Sodapop asked innocently, a grin spreading across his face. Two-Bit barked out a laugh, then groaned. Mercedes shot him a sideways glance, and I wondered what was going on there.

"Only if you're handsome too there, Sodiepop," Steve snorted, wiping his hands on a rag. "That car was nasty, man, aint no way to fix that."

Soda shrugged. "Aint my problem. I figger if I fix it a little, they'll keep on comin' back fer more of my special care."

"Special care?" Steve snorted. "You mean this is a broad's car?"  
>Ponyboy laughed outright at that, still a little red.<p>

Soda smirked. "Only one woman in my life about now, that's this here Marigold," he slung an arm around me, and I leaned against him, smelling the grease and faint smell of soap.

Two-Bit laughed. "Hey, fellers, did lil Annabel over here tellya what we did? Big Red went'n me went job huntin'! Yeah man, it was wild. First, we went to the strip club, but they said they were looking for some qualities we didn't have." He frowned. "He prolly meant tits!" Two-Bit declared, rubbing his hands on his flat chest, scowling. "I'd be a great dancer."

"Two-Bit, ye gotta be twenty-one to work that strip joint," Mercedes told him, sighing.

Two-Bit looked furious. "I bet that Big Red got the job and didn't even tell me!" he howled.

Steve busted out laughing. "Hey, there, Two-Bit, you sure you weren't just drinkin' this weekend?"

Two-Bit thought about it. "Well, now thatcha mention it, I do distinctly remember Mercedes throwin' a fit about me pukin' on her rug. Can't imagine why."

Ash said thoughtfully. "Charlie wants a job real bad. He says he's figgerin' 'e can't stay outta trouble fer much longer wit drugs an' the like, ya dig, man?"

I listened quietly to the conversation, and I noticed that Soda didn't take his arm off me the entire time.

I didn't mind.


	29. Chapter 29

Feeling antsy, I decided to go for a walk. There was plenty of time, since school wasn't over. Soda followed me, wiping his hands.

We were silent, both of us just thinking. I looked at him, struck again by how handsome he was. I couldn't ever get tired of looking at him. Every time I looked at him, it was like seeing him for the first time. His beauty never got old. And he _was_ beautiful. I know guys aren't supposed to be beautiful, because it isn't tough enough, but Soda looked like an angel.

"I gotta tell you something," he said abruptly. He dug his hands into his pockets and stopped. "They got the draft in."

"Soda, you're seventeen." I reassured him, my heart clenching at the hint. I immediately felt nauseous.

He looked at me stubbornly. "It's gonna happen," he insisted. "Less than a year… I'm probably goin'. I aint sayin' definitely, but I gotta look at facts, you dig?"

I blinked painfully. I didn't wanna talk about this. Not at all.

How _did_ I feel about Soda? I cared, sure. He cared about me too. But along what lines did my feelings run? And how deeply?

He took his hands from his pockets and gripped mine. "You won't have to worry, Marigold. I won't leave you."

Was this my answer? _I won't leave you_? What did that mean?

Suddenly confused, I held his hand just as tightly. Suddenly, I felt tears come and looking at me, he wrapped his arms around me close, and I cried, making him comfort me, selfishly.

"I don't want you to go," I hiccupped, trying to fight the sobs that threatened me.

"Marigold, I might have to. But I wanna let you know something that I aint even told Pony yet. I think I love you." he paused, and I felt the strength that it took to make this confession to me, after he'd been shattered by Sandy, after he'd dealt with his brother running off, with the death of Dally and his friend Johnny. "I know its real fast, but I know how it feels. You don't have to say it back, 'cause I know at least you care. I just want you to know." He stroked my hair, and I wanted to stay in his arms forever.

I knew he didn't want me to lie. Lies are what hurt him the most, and the truth might hurt him too, but I'd rather be honest with him, after he'd done so much for me, been so kind and compassionate. He'd tolerated so much from me, gone out of his way for me. It was the very least I could do for him.

"Well, I don't know a whole lot about love, Sodapop," I admitted, sniffing into his chest, still struggling against my tears. "I know I like you, and I care. I know I don't want you to go."

"Listen, Goldie, I'm gonna take good care of ya. I talked to Big Red, an' he said some thugs were threatenin' you. You're gonna be out of that from now on. I swear. You don't gotta worry 'bout nothin' no more. I promise." He consoled me.

I looked up at him, and his big brown eyes and figured maybe after all I deserved a little bit of a fairy tale ending. I may not have true love's first kiss, but I have my knight in shining armor now, right? But he was more than an idealistic symbol. Soda was _real_, he was sweet and kind and strong. He was a giver.

And I may not be a princess, but I have a good chance at a happily ever after now, here, with him. It wouldnt be perfect: not with him a dropout and I myself pregnant, dealing with the stigmatism of judgment, with those who didn't understand glaring at me disapprovingly. But perfect was overrated: perfect was a facade for the secrets and lies that lay hidden in closed rooms.

I didn't want closed rooms. I wanted truth and happiness. The opinions of other's didn't matter, not when they had their own little secrets to hide from the world. I wouldn't hide. I wouldn't try to escape. I was stronger than that now.

I realized how much I'd been through in the past few weeks. And I decided I was a lovable person now. I had grown from a shy, quiet girl, into a woman that Sodapop could love. I could survive being a teen mom. I didn't have to survive being a single mom. Not with Soda around, or Buck. And maybe my baby would have an uncle... if Dip could manage to free himself from the dark corners and streets he'd been involved in for so long.

"Tell me one thing," Soda grinned, the flirtatious smirk painted across his face, trying to erase my unhappiness. "Are you gonna be my girl, Goldie?"

I looked at him. I felt a smile break across my face, combating the tears, and choked a laugh, a geniune laugh. "Do you even have to _ask_ me that, Sodapop Curtis?" I smiled.

We kept on walking, and the sun felt warmer than it had in months. All I could think about was the clouds scudding about up above, and how I felt as if I were one of them.

I'd managed to get my life in order, and really, it was all due to him. A chance meeting meant that my whole life was changed.

Maybe I was still me. Maybe I was still a scaredy cat, a pregnant teenager, a mousy looking girl who cared too much about school, and control. But now I knew my full potential.

"I owe you so much," I told Soda, the lump in my throat belying my actual joy, my voice husky with it.

He gave me one of his lightening fast grins and my heart nearly stopped in my chest. I knew the real power behind the bright lights in the sky, the wildfire that belonged to storms. I saw the beauty that hid Soda's unhappiness and promised myself that it would all be worth it.

He traded one pregnant girl for the other. The only difference was, I'd never leave him.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**Hii guys. I know this hasn't been the most popular fanfiction out there, but to everyone who's subscribed to me and favorited me, thanks so much! I hope you liked it. **

**I'm not anywhere near done yet. Part three of the series will be up soon, and then I think it'll be over.**

**The next story deals somewhat with Ponyboy. Of course, as with both of the stories so far, it'll take place in a POV that isn't a canon character. **

**Pleas bear with me for the first few chapters, as they will NOT have Ponyboy in them, but just like this fanfiction has been longer than Subside, the next one will be even longer, and deal with a lot more.**

**In Subside, Ash dealt with moving, an eating disorder brought on not by insecurity, but by her own inability to control her life, Johnny's(The cousin she never really knew) death, and being in love with Darry, who's three years older than her, and three times as mature and steady.**

**In Escape, Marigold put up with abuse, teen pregnancy, and identity. I threw a little Sodapop in there too, obviously, because it just fit so well. I hope everybody enjoyed it, and will be reading the next installment.**


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